The Homestead
by esmegrace
Summary: Bella is a chef hired at an exclusive resort.  She must deal with an overzealous boss, an enthusiastic golf pro, and a mysterious guest who appears only in the library late at night...
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue—Hot Springs, Virginia, 1901**

James stared down at the back of his hands, palms flat on the desk in front of him. This was the moment of truth. _Or more appropriately, the moment of lies_. He smiled briefly to himself at the thought. Henry Stanley would be here any moment. He'd seen the car slowly wending its way down the hill in the darkness, headlights short stabs of light. It had disappeared behind the magnolia trees, but he knew it would arrive at the service entrance shortly. His personal valet would show his guest directly here, to this office. He pressed down into his palms, pushing himself up, raising himself to his full height. _How does one address a member of the House of Commons?_ _Was it Mister or Honorable or something else entirely?_ He really didn't care but needed to appear appropriately fawning. This, he knew.

Mr. Morgan had asked him to arrange a secret meeting between the two. James had felt hopeful and even proud that the great J.P. Morgan would entrust such a task to him. That was before he had discovered he was being replaced. He'd learned this by eavesdropping, of course, as was his habit. The nephew of a friend, it seemed would become the next manager of The Homestead. The hotel was one of Mr. Morgan's pet projects, but he was far more involved than an investor typically became, riding in frequently on his rail line from New York City to scrutinize things. James had thought he'd been pleased with what he had seen. James' rise from anonymous Danish immigrant to manager of one of the most famous hotels in America had been unlikely, but he had thought that Mr. Morgan was an exceptional man, actually promoting based on merit and talent, rather than nepotism.

But James had been wrong, so it seemed. Now, he planned to repay Mr. Morgan for his "kindness." Charles Yerkes had been a guest at the hotel two weeks ago, under an assumed name, of course, and Mr. Morgan had no idea. Just after dinner one night in the lounge, he had approached James with an offer he couldn't refuse. Over brandy and cigars, he offered an obscene amount of money to prevent this very meeting between Mr. Morgan and Mr. (_Hon?)_ Stanley. Mr. Morgan wanted to connect the London tube routes. As if he could possibly earn more money than he already had, he thought he could make a true old world fortune. He wanted to buy up the remaining land in London, but he needed Parliament's approval. This meeting with Henry Stanley would pave the way. Henry Stanley had lived in America, been a reporter of all things. He had met Wild Bill Hickock and spent time in the Dakota Territory. He was willing to help Morgan in his venture, for a price. Mr. Yerkes owned the rest of the tube system and desperately wanted to prevent Mr. Morgan's involvement. Mr. Yerkes didn't quite have Mr. Morgan's fortune, but he would use any means to assemble it. He was certainly not above blackmail or bribes. He had ruled Chicago in this way and graduated to international intrigues. Mr. Morgan felt disdain for Chicago, that it was a backwater, almost the frontier, but James felt a kinship with Mr. Yerkes. He felt that he was just like Mr. Yerkes, just on a smaller scale, albeit one that could enlarge. James smiled to himself. _Determination. That's what I have, _he thought_._

By now, he had crossed the room and was standing in front of the full length mirror mounted on a wardrobe against the back wall. He smiled at himself again, still in evening wear. _Handsome devil, _he smiled_. _He wore a dark tail coat and trousers with a white waistcoat. He stretched out his arms and brushed off his sleeves. His cuff links glittered in the low lighting, not diamond but a good imitation. He reached up to straighten his matching white bow tie. He smirked at his reflection smoothing back his oiled hair and mustache. His skin was somewhat pale, but he had been complemented on his fair hair and blue eyes by women who knew about such things. He always dressed formally for dinner and hadn't changed before this meeting. He knew he was handsome and felt somehow more powerful in this attire. Mr. Morgan thought Henry Stanley was coming tomorrow. James had wired him about the change in plans. He would arrive on the morning train from New York. Tonight he would entertain Henry Stanley with false information. Tomorrow, he would continue his deception with Mr. Morgan. Mr. Yerkes had promised him a managerial position at Claridge's in London, quite a step up from this Virginia outpost. Parliament would block Mr. Morgan's deal before he was any the wiser.

Behind his reflection he saw the oil lantern flicker and gutter. He glanced away from the mirror toward it, but any wind seemed to have settled. He had the windows closed against the late evening chill so there really shouldn't be a draft. When he turned back to his reflection, he sharply exclaimed at a vision of sightless eyes staring back at him from a skull. He chuckled feebly when he realized it was just the shadows cast by the dancing flames of the lantern. It had gotten quite dark in the room. It was lit only by the lantern, so as not to draw attention to his office window from the grounds. They were, of course, one of the first hotels in America to have electric light. Mr. Edison was a great friend of Mr. Morgan, but, he had elected to keep the lights out. He chastised himself for his overactive imagination.

There was a sharp knock at the door. He quickly traversed the room and discreetly opened it. A stout man with red cheeks, but gray hair and eyes stood with a top hat and cane beside the valet. The valet swiftly nodded, dropped his eyes and backed away without a word. James was well known for his unpredictable moods.

"Mr. Stanley…I hope that is the appropriate greeting for you, in fact…please step into my office," James bowed and backed up two paces. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am James Nomaden, manager of the hotel. I am afraid that Mr. Morgan will be unable to join us this evening." James could see a look of dismay flit across his guest's features, but he replaced it with a calm façade quickly.

"Well, I have come a long way. I am surprised that he is not here to greet me for such an important matter," Stanley countered, a false smile on his face.

"Shall we sit?" James asked politely. He gestured toward two large mahogany straight-backed chairs with rolled arm rests. They were covered in a dark green chenille fabric with elaborate wood working. They had been extremely costly, but Mr. Morgan had approved the expense when he thought they were destined for the smoking lounge.

"Mr. Nomaden, is it?" Stanley asked, crossing his legs. He seemed uncomfortable for someone who had spent so much time mingling among the masses. He reached into his own waistcoat and produced a cigar. He waved it in front of him in questioning manner. James nodded at him, acquiescing. "I don't wish to be rude, but I don't feel comfortable discussing these matters with you or in this setting. I feel out of place here, for some reason. Please tell Morgan that I will do what I can to help him. I don't need incentive. Without going into detail, I think it is best for London. Plus, I like to help Americans…I admire the pioneering spirit, perhaps." He paused to light his cigar and inhaled deeply. Smoke ringed around his face, clouding it from view. "I've travelled in Abyssinia, you know," he said slowly, waving his hand across the space between them. The smoke cleared.

"I was not aware of that," James said, hardly interested. He was trying to dissuade this man from helping Morgan or at least delaying it. What could he say?

"It's hard to continue to take stock in humankind and his ways after some of the things I have seen, I can assure you. I've felt strange since I arrived. Another reason, I'm so sorry not to see Morgan here. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I feel uneasy. I feel things I haven't felt in many years." Stanley continued, his eyes taking on a faraway look.

_I'm blowing this_, thought James. _How do I bring the subject back around?_

"Have you heard of vodun or the botano?" asked Stanley suddenly, his eyes a million miles away.

_Is he drunk? _James thought wildly.

"No?" Stanley looked at him, his eyes clearing as if suddenly remembering where he was. "I've seen spirits possess the body of a living man," he said quietly, looking down at his hands breaking eye contact.

_What is going on?_ James continued to smile politely.

Stanley looked back up, his eyes seeming to penetrate James' soul this time. "Not like a possession, you know, what you read in Matthew?" He swallowed and then took a long drag on his cigar. He exhaled and stared toward the window on the opposite wall at the rising moon. "When the mind is weak, ill, or injured, a spirit can overcome it. Push it right out of the body. The circumstances have to be right, but the spirit can live again. I saw it happen. Damnedest thing. Cured me of my wanderlust, sure did. I went straight back to England from Africa. Never published any of those stories I collected. Married the first girl I saw and settled down. Wild Bill Hickock, be damned! Now I'm in Parliament, safe and sound." He let out a nervous laugh. "I don't know what it is about this place, but it raises those feelings again. I've felt odd since I left the train station. I can smell the incense. Feel the humidity on my skin. Almost hear the chanting." Suddenly, Stanley sat bolt upright and opened his eyes wide. "Mr. Nomaden, I need to leave now. Please send for my car and driver. I won't spend the night. Tell Morgan I'll help him, however I can." He stood, stubbed out his cigar in the cut glass ashtray and shifted toward the door, in hurry.

James jumped to his feet, desperate to stop the current stream of events. His hand flew out, grabbing Stanley's wrist to halt him. "Wait, Mr. Stanley, wouldn't you like to share in my fine single malt collection?" he asked with what he thought of as an ingratiating smile. He'd practiced it in the mirror and thought it effective.

Stanley's eyes shifted to the spot where James' skin contacted his. Then, he stared back at James, horror and fear growing in his expression. James was bewildered by what he saw there. Stanley sprang back as if electrocuted, eyes wide with shock. "It's YOU!" he exclaimed. "I've got to get out of here, they warned me!" he almost shouted these confusing words. He stumbled in his haste, knocking against James. James reached out to steady him, hold him still, but Stanley was faster. He wrenched free of his grasp and moved toward the door.

"I'll see myself out, Mr. Nomaden, and I won't speak of this to Mr. Morgan." He was slowly backing toward the door, palms held up in surrender. Fury overtook James. This was his big chance, and he was letting it slip away. He lunged toward Stanley, who feinted to the side just in time. James contacted the desk, and the lantern tumbled to the floor shattering amid flames. Stanley stood stock still, stunned for a moment, eyes locked with James. "I'm sorry," he mouthed silently and sprinted for the door. The flames had reached his Persian rug and shot toward the ceiling. Smoke curled in tendrils up the curtains. They surrounded him. He tried to run for the door or reach the window, but the smoke had him choking. He sank to his knees, visions of semi-clad natives, dark shining skin, masks with bared, gleaming teeth clouding his sensorium. He could hear the chanting, feel the whoosh of air as their limbs jerked in dance. Then, things went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I'm sorry for all the alerts; I'm still learning how uploading stories works. This is my first attempt at a fic, and I don't have a real beta—too nervous to ask for one. The Homestead is a real place in Virginia that I don't own. Many of the characters in this story are based on real life people, such as Charles Yerkes, Henry Stanley, and the great JP Morgan. There will be more real life references as well-a prize to those who recognize and review. BTW, Nomaden is Danish for "the Nomad." **

**I don't own Twilight…**

**Chapter 2—Hot Springs, VA, Modern Day**

The rain made it hard to see the portico. Not that it was raining that hard, but the fog swirled upward in columns, like steam, obscuring the view. If I weren't shivering in my sweater, I might have thought it was a summer rain, creating vapor where it hit the hot pavement. But my breath in the cab, betrayed the season. I shivered. The clock on the top of the lofty Georgian tower rose out of the mist. I was nervous but knew I had to get on with it. Now was the time to be a grown up. I had wanted this opportunity, prayed for it. It didn't matter that I was far from home, and it was taking a form that I hadn't expected. Now was my time to shine. I repeated my father's encouraging words in my mind like a mantra.

I felt awkward because I was in the valet area. But I wasn't sure where the staff parking lot was. I decided to park here and go in and ask, rather than drive around in the rain like an idiot. I chuckled at the valet's expression as he eyed my 1992 F-150.

"Hi, I'm Bella," I said. He stared at me blankly. "I'm the new chef," I clarified for him, "I just arrived?" It sounded like a question. I felt ridiculous.

He broke into an encouraging grin. "Great! I'm Eric, the eyes and ears of this place," he said enthusiastically. "Anything you need, tours, maps, advice on handling the locals, I'm your man. I've been here for five years," he beamed at me and grasped the gold braid on his shoulders. I felt uncomfortable. As far as Eric's bravado about being here five years, I knew it took much longer than that to ingratiate oneself with this mountain population. I smiled brightly; I didn't have the heart to alienate a possible friend so fast. And what if everyone here was this disingenuous? How could I stand that?

"OK, Eric, can you help me with my bags? I just need to bring them inside, and I don't own much. I'm supposed to meet with the General Manager. Mr. Edward Cullen? And can you tell me where to park?"

He laughed and leaned close. I felt uncomfortable and tilted away. "Mr. Cullen goes by 'James'," he corrected. "It has to do with something about a nickname from his time as a World War II pilot. Usually they call those guys "Maverick" or "Carbomb" or something else cool, but I'm sure there's a story behind it."

I think I stared dumbly, and he continued. "Oh, but you'll still call him Mr. Cullen. That's just some free trivia for you." His eyes narrowed at me appraisingly.

"Well," I squeaked. "If you could point me in the direction of his office, I think I'd be pretty grateful," I said.

"Sure, no problem," he said, eyeing me up and down. "Let me know if you need any help, know what I mean?" I smiled but felt my skin crawl. I knew. Yes, I did. However, I was grateful to him for agreeing to park my truck in the employee lot. So, I held my tongue.

I tried to imagine I was a guest entering the hotel for the first time, two hundred years ago, when it first started welcoming the privileged. I stepped over the white planks on the large front porch and glanced to my right and left down the rows of wooden rocking chairs. Preppy couples in cashmere snuggled together in the mist, enjoying the weather which indulged inappropriate public displays. Then, I moved forward through the large white wooden, matched front doors. Thick, etched Victorian glass graced the upper halves. It looked original to my eye. A doorman pulled them aside for me, smiling. He was oblivious to my employee status. I tread forward into the main lobby. My eyes swept to the left and right, taking in the soft green oriental carpets that covered the warped hardwood floors. Sofas covered in striped pastel-colored fabrics were grouped together on either side of the walkway, down the long room. I could see well-dressed women sipping tea from what looked like Wedgewood china tea cups. Was that real Nantucket Basket? I'd only seen it in catalogues. Off to my left, I saw a long white desk. Two men in waistcoats which seemed more appropriate for the turn-of-the-century stood behind the desk, smiling towards me. I moved forward hesitantly. I saw the closest man nod indulgently, his dark skin shining in the soft artificial candlelight thrown from the chandeliers above.

I was dressed in what I considered professional clothing. I had gotten this suit at The Limited, and it was, at $125, one of my most expensive outfits. The saleslady had assured me that the deep chocolate hue brought out the brown of my eyes and accentuated the natural golden and henna highlights in my hair. The man behind the desk smiled, his white teeth gleaming. He obviously hadn't realized I was an employee yet.

"Hello, I'm Bella Swan, the new chef at 1766 Grille," I explained. The smile slipped imperceptibly. "I've just arrived, and I'm supposed to meet with Mr. Cullen."

"Of course, Ms. Swan, if you would follow the stairs to the left of the elevator to the second floor, you'll see a large set of carved double doors. That is Mr. Cullen's office. Please knock and wait. I'm Tyler Crowley, if I can be of further assistance to you." This guy was good. Well, trained and polite. He only seemed very slightly begrudging to be speaking with another employee this way. I'd have to make it up to him another time. By him a drink, loosen him up. I needed friends, and this guy was at least handsome. I gave him a big smile, my best try. I was stepping out of my comfort zone, breaking the mould, and a few other clichés by just accepting this job. Now was the time to go all out. My inner hermit cringed.

"Thanks, Tyler. Please call me Bella. I'm really excited to be here; it's a great opportunity for me." I didn't want to come off as a snooty chef. I felt uncomfortable already with my exalted title. Although I was eager for this position, I also felt odd about it. It was too soon for this sort of thing. I had only been a sous chef at Babbo for a few months before Edward Cullen called out of the blue to offer me the job of head chef at his famous resort. Kind of strange, but he had seen a TV spot on the Food Network about the competition I had won as a culinary school graduate. He'd said on the phone, he just felt I was "right" for the position and just what he'd been "looking for." I didn't know what that meant. I'd still jumped at the chance. Of course, this was my big break. If I ever expected to be mentioned in the same breath as Paula Deen, Giada, and Cat Cora, I had to start somewhere.

Tyler was smiling at me now, and I realized I was frowning. He must think I was schizophrenic.

"Right, the stairs," I said. "I'll see you later, Tyler." I waved as I moved off, and he laughed and shrugged.

I turned the corner and headed up the staircase next to the elevator. It wasn't grand and surely was normally used by the staff. I guessed the guests used the elevator to go from the first to second floor. Being rich gave you the right to be lazy, I reasoned. Only the first floor appeared to have hardwood flooring. The stairs were wide and fully carpeted. Just off to my left was a carved set of wooden doors, as promised. They looked wholly out of place here. They were weathered and gray with stylized figures carved into the wood, clashing with the floral pastel wallpaper. They appeared ancient, much older than the authentic Victorian and Georgian furnishings around me. Were they Mayan or Aztec? I wasn't sure but they seemed to belong to some sort of Native American culture. Peculiar, I thought. I walked closer, further inspecting the carvings. Half-animal, half-human beings danced and contorted across the surface. Faces alternately twisted in agony or ecstasy. Cruel-looking talons ripped flesh. I shivered at the sheer incongruousness of these doors' presence in this hotel. I raised my fist to knock, but before I did, the doors parted and began to slowly creak open.

An elderly man stood smiling, appraising me. He was straight-backed and spry, his gray hair untidy on his head. He seemed to have a generally jolly air, like a beloved grandfather, but I could see that he had been devastatingly handsome in his day. He reminded me of a Sean Connery or Clint Eastwood in their later years. Then, I looked at his eyes. They were quite out of place, almost as if they belonged to someone else. They were cold, hard, almost avian. I felt like an insect caught in his stare. I swallowed hard, and that seemed to break the spell. His eyes slipped off me, and I was sure I had imagined the moment. I had been through a lot today, and it was surely making me overly sensitive. I waited for him to speak.

"Ms. Swan, I presume. Welcome, welcome, please come in and have a seat." He took a step back and waved me in. He was dressed in a mint green golf shirt with the Lower Cascades logo, khaki pants, and a braided leather belt. He looked very much the southern preppy gentleman on holiday. I stepped over the threshold and into his office. The air seemed to chill as I entered. The room was decked out like a turn of the century gentleman's smoking room with lots of dark wood, heavy fabrics, thick oriental carpets. I moved toward a set of lovely dark green carved chairs as he motioned with his hand for me to sit. There was a fireplace with a cheerful fire sparking and cracking quietly. I suddenly realized that we weren't alone when a figure stood from one of the chairs by the fire. She had been hidden by the tall back. I stared at her rudely.

"My, my, you are the perfect little thing, aren't you?" she said beginning to shift toward me. Mr. Cullen was still standing by the door, which he had apparently just closed behind us. I felt a flash of panic, like I was trapped. I dismissed it quickly, and turned back to the formidable women coming at me.

I knew she had to be in her 80s, but her hair was a shocking shade of red, cut in a stylish, softly waving bob. As I examined her coloring, I realized that the color didn't look out of place or fake. If I had to guess, I would say she was trying to capture her natural color, what had once been before time had leeched away the color, leaving her with a dim gray. I didn't know many women her age who continued to bother with hair color. I also noticed that she was wearing slightly too much make-up and that her skin was too smooth, clearly she had had work done. However, the overall effect was not pathetic as it might be on another woman. This lady stood straight in 3 inch heels, a fitted pencil skirt, and décolletage blouse. I decided she frightened me. Mr. Cullen cleared his throat.

"Welcome to The Homestead, Ms. Swan. We are delighted to have you here and look forward to great things from you. I am James Cullen, and this is my wife, Victoria." Here, he nodded toward the woman who was now directly in front of me. She put her hand out to touch my face, like she was inspecting a sculpture or a painting. It felt cold and lifeless. If his eyes had alarmed me before, they were nothing to what I saw when I looked into hers. They were bottomless, empty. I was reminded of a cat, not a house cat but a dangerous jungle cat. She smiled slightly while still examining me, and I added canary-eating to my list of cat adjectives. I took a step back from her; I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. A burst of wind shook the windows, and smoke from the fire subtly wafted into the room, blurring my vision. She smiled delightedly.

"Ms. Swan, we've made arrangements for you to have an apartment here in the resort for now, until you have had time to explore the area. The top floor houses employees. I do apologize for they are not quite appropriate for someone with your job title, but I hope it will be acceptable for you temporarily." I murmured some sort of thanks and acquiescence, and he continued. "The restaurant will be closed for another week, and we'd like to have the grand re-opening next Saturday, if you will be ready?" This last ended in a question, and I nodded. I'd expected a similar timetable. He nodded and went on, "We have arranged for the media from Roanoke to be present along with some state senators and a few of the trustees from the University of Virginia. This is acceptable to you?" He finished, looking at me expectantly.

I smiled broadly, "Yes, Mr. Cullen, I am very excited to take up this challenge. I, too, look forward to wonderful things from our collaboration." Suddenly, I felt something on my face. Victoria had stepped close again and was running one fingernail down the side of my left cheek. I shuddered, unable to control myself. I think her feline grin only got slightly larger.

"James, let's call Jacob to show Bella to her room," she purred. "As another newcomer, I think he'd be the perfect one to show her the ropes." An unreadable glance passed between the two of them, then, Mr. Cullen smiled. His smile was shockingly lovely, if one could use such a word to describe such a masculine man, and one of his age.

"Bella, may I call you Bella?" he asked.

"Of course, of course," I said ingratiatingly. It wasn't lost on me that he did not invite me to call him by his first name.

"Well, our golf course manager is also new to us. He's been here a little over two months. My wife has considerately suggested that we call him to show you to your room and give you a little tour. Is that agreeable to you?" I nodded. I had been dreading fumbling around the property with my nose buried in a map, and this sounded infinitely better. The presence of another newbie made me feel slightly more relaxed. I looked up and caught the tail end of another one of those glances between the Cullens. Victoria flicked her eyes in my direction; she looked at me like I was something to eat. Suddenly, I was ready to be out of this office and in my new quarters.

Mr. Cullen picked up a black cordless phone. I heard a faint greeting on the other end of the line. "Yes, the new chef is here. Would you meet her in the lobby, show her to her rooms, give her a short tour?" Sounds of acquiescence came through the phone, and Mr. Cullen smiled and turned back to me. "Jacob will meet you in the lobby in a few minutes. He has to walk up from the pro-shop. You'll recognize him as the tall Native American gentleman, not much older than yourself." Again, he gave me another knowing smile. I must be getting paranoid, but I just wanted out of the room at this point. I shook his hand firmly and turned to shake Victoria's hand, but she pulled me into a tight embrace. Her breath was cool on my cheek. I stepped back quickly, chilled, then thanked them, and headed quickly for the door and the first floor.

I seated myself close to the front doors on one of the pastel striped couches. I tried to stay out of the way of the paying guests, and this spot seemed to have a draft, repelling those lounging about. I saw Jacob enter the lobby from what appeared to be a corridor of shops on the far end of the long room. I think my mouth may have dropped open slightly when I saw him. I would have guessed him at about 6 foot, 5 inches, if not more. His pale, long sleeved golf shirt clung to his muscular torso leaving little to the imagination. His skin was a beautiful, silky russet that seemed lit from within, and his head was covered in shiny dark hair, the color of a raven's wing. His features were angular with a deep set brow and intelligent dark eyes. It was altogether a very pretty face. I sighed, silently thanking God for sending me this tour guide. I quickly forgot all of the discomfort and awkwardness of the meeting with the Cullens and stood to meet him.

"I'm Bella Swan, you must be Jacob," I said tentatively. I'm sure he had women routinely throwing themselves at him. I had to maintain some level of class.

He threw me a brilliant smile with perfect, straight white teeth, of course. "It's great to meet you, Bella. I'm Jacob Black, the golf course manager. I guess Mr. Cullen thought the blind leading the blind was a good idea." He laughed, and it was a very attractive low chuckle. He extended a firm bicep in my direction, still smiling charmingly. I wanted to grab it with both hands and squeeze, but I reined myself in. "Shall we?" he asked. I couldn't tell if he said it suggestively. Well, I reasoned, I had the rest of tour to find out. I hooked my arm through his, and we headed out of the lobby.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own Twilight…or a beta or a warm body on the other side of my tempurpedic. My husband on the other hand sleeps on the top bunk in a 40 sq ft room which he shares with a very decent guy. I have a window but he doesn't.

Chapter 3

Jacob was totally at ease. That was simple to see. However, the room did not seem at ease surrounding him. The bulky Native American strained at his preppy clothing, much too loud despite saying nothing in the hushed tones of this luxurious space. I was physically overwhelmed. This was not the kind of guy I normally spent time with, and I felt intimidated. Gone was my earlier bravado and thoughts of breaking out of my shell. We headed towards the shopping promenade at the far end of the long Grand Hall with my hand still tucked into his arm. He was very tall, but he grinned down at me.

"I'm so glad to have someone my own age to socialize with," he started, "Cullen's wife has got it going on for an 80 year old, but she gives me the creeps!" I smiled in agreement. I was definitely shy in the presence of strangers, but Jacob was making it hard not to relax. Plus, his remarks about Victoria, surely jived with my own thoughts.

"Do you know the Cullen's well?" I asked. "They've given me an awesome opportunity here, but I couldn't find much about them on the internet. In the end, I just couldn't pass up the job. They seem interesting?" The end of my statement came out as a question. I guess I was still reeling from meeting the intimidating couple.

Jacob's answering laugh could be described as a guffaw. "Yes, theirs is a true love story. I'm sure you'll hear about it at some point. I watched your show on the Food Network," he confessed. I blushed but secretly felt proud. I knew I came off as a food bad-ass on that show or else I wouldn't have won. We can't all be sweet Stephanie from Season 4 of Top Chef. I had to hand it to her though, her Girl and the Goat restaurant in Chicago was delicious.

Jacob continued, "I wouldn't expect you to fish for information like this, but OK, I'll bite!" He pulled me to the side of a dark-wood lined promenade within the East Wing of the hotel. There were shops on either side of the corridor, one selling sundries, another with Christmas decorations—this struck me as odd given the September date, but I figured it was one of those year round stores for the occasion. We were stopped outside of a women's clothing store selling resort type finds, you know flowing prints and metallic bathing suits.

Jacob drew a deep breath and exhaled into speech. The way he started made me think I was going to hear a long tale. While he had seemed so attractive from the beginning, he was starting to strike me as a bit superficial. His words confirmed it; I'd asked about the owner of the hotel, but that's not what I got. "I was born into the Cherokee nation in western North Carolina. We shared those beautiful Smokey Mountains with rich Americans who just wanted to vacation in the nice weather. My people were trying to hide from the mass exodus which resulted in the Trail of Tears." He continued grinning, but I felt a little awkward given the seriousness of the turn in conversation. I mean, geez, we were in Dances with Wolves territory.

Jacob started laughing, but I wasn't yet sure what was funny. "I was discovered by Dolly Parton." I looked at him for a moment, waiting for more. He laughed harder at my expression. I noticed a very pretty dark-haired girl had moved from the door of the women's clothing shop to watch us more closely. She was definitely our age, so I wondered about his comment about lack of people his age with whom to socialize. "Yep! I know that's cliché or something, but she picked me right out at my dad's souvenir shop in Cherokee. We used to sell those feather headdresses, like the ones that the Apache wore?" He smiled indulgently, and I decided that the Cherokee and the Apache weren't likely related tribes. "Dolly thought I had a great Native American look, so she asked my dad if I could come to work up at Dolly Wood, in her amusement park." I'd heard of Dolly Wood. I'd never been, but I knew they had a famous exhibit on the origins of NASCAR as well as lots of entertainment courtesy of Dolly herself. I think it was somewhere in eastern Tennessee, not far from where we were in Virginia. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the direction of the conversation, when I noticed the dark haired girl moving closer to us with what could only be described as a feral scowl on her face.

"Getting the True Dolly Wood Story on our golden boy here?" she sneered. She had crossed the hallway and stood with us now. "Let me give you the Cliffs' Notes version. One of Dolly's buddies took him to a fancy golf club, and he was a natural. Then, he earned a college scholarship, impressed a bunch of rich assholes, and landed here as the pro, where his hobbies include sleeping with every girl in town and then pretending he's never met them. "

Jacob's face was angry. He grabbed the girl by her upper arm and started to pull her away from me, headed back toward the gift shop. "Leah, you are such a crazy bitch. Why do you do this? You know you are full of shit! Bella, ignore her. She's our resident loony." Jacob threw this last part over his shoulder back at me, focused on dragging Leah away, but she was looking back at me, her face defeated and sad. She jerked her arm away from him, and he held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. He turned his back to her and placed a smile back on his face. "Let's get this tour back on track," he gestured for me to follow him out of the shopping promenade. Leah's eyes were on him with a look that I thought might be longing. I was uncomfortable from the confrontation and wanted out of here. She turned and headed back into her shop. The show was over.

Jacob and I turned the corner, down another dark wood-lined hallway. A lovely room opened up to our left with a wall of windows looking out on the property. "Sorry about that," Jacob said. "Leah has a thing for me, I guess, and has trouble with reality." I thought he seemed a little callous; she was obviously disturbed even if Jacob was telling the truth and nothing had happened between them. I waved my hand to indicate I was not interested in discussing the topic further. We had moved into the room now, and it had my attention. The windows looked out onto a terraced lawn with a gazebo at its lowest point. It was well-landscaped, and I bet it was beautiful in spring with blooming flowers. I couldn't wait to see the famous azaleas. Today the view was partially obscured by all the mist and rain. I longed for dry weather but couldn't help but see the irony that I'd moved from the wettest place in the continental US to the second wettest. I could see another Georgian building off to the west. It looked like the main hotel might connect. Jacob noticed me looking.

"You're looking toward the spa," he said. "You probably already know it's fed by a real hot spring. It was felt to have magical or healing properties back in the 18th century when this place was first opened. My people…" here he winked at me, "…were the first to tout its powers. Back then people just came and soaked, but now it's a pretty fancy spa. You should try and schedule some services. Help you relax." He spoke suggestively, and combined with the wink, I was getting a pretty smarmy vibe from Jacob at this point. Suddenly, I was distracted.

"Jacob, is this the President's Lounge?" I asked turning slowly in place. I had noticed the paintings that hung on the walls surrounding us. I remembered that twenty-two US Presidents had stayed at the resort and had their portraits hanging in the famous lounge. I got excited knowing what that meant and where I was in the hotel. There was a large piece of heavy wood furniture holding several racks of wine up near the window wall. I headed there quickly and around the corner, and there it was: my new restaurant.

1766 Grille was written in elegant gold script above the glass double doors. A large wooden desk was just outside, where the hostess would stand. It looked to be an original piece. I peered through the warped glass, which looked original too, into the dining room. The walls were dark paneled like the hallways with elegantly carved chairs at tables covered in sumptuous federal blue fabric with gold trim. It was elegant and classy, and I was suddenly overcome with a rush of gratitude for my good fortune. Life had treated me well, and I was ready to start paying back.

I grasped Jacob's hand before I could stop myself. "Can we get into the kitchen now?" I felt giddy. He was laughing at my enthusiasm. "I think you should wait for the dining room manager to show it to you tomorrow. This kitchen is shared with the one for the Main Dining Room, and people are probably working in there," he said. "Let's just finish our tour and then you can get settled in." He was still holding my hand and pulled me away from the doors. I realized and dropped his hand immediately. He gave me a knowing smirk.

"I'll take you down to the spa now. We can stop by the pro shop on the way," he made his way back around in the lounge area and out into a different hallway. We went down a set of narrow stairs and came out in a tiled tunnel-like hallway. It was artificially lit and without windows. I was momentarily reminded of a morgue on CSI. I shook my head at the dark places my mind went, and then realized I actually did recognize the decoration. It was just like the underground hallway in the Biltmore House in Asheville, NC, the one that led to that spectacular Victorian indoor swimming pool. I smiled delightedly when I recognized that this tunnel was probably contemporary with that one. Something possibly sinister became associated with a treasured childhood memory. It seems ironic, looking back now.

"Where are we?" I asked. Jacob didn't turn, which I thought was odd. He seemed the type to want an audience at all cost. He strode ahead of me, too quickly. "I wanted to show you this short cut," he answered, "it connects the old wing of the hotel, the one that burned, with the spa building. These are the two oldest buildings on the premises. The "new" wing was built in the twenties, but we still call it new. The spa and the old wing date to the 1890s. Most of this wing burned to a shell in 1901, but it was rebuilt on its foundation." I felt like I was running to keep up with him. We approached a low door that led out of the tunnel into the lower gardens I'd spotted from the window above. Jacob moved toward the door.

"We'll take a short cut here, but if you continued on down the tunnel…" here he motioned down the dim corridor with a nod of his head, "…you'd come out just inside the spa foyer. Let's take a quick breather in the pro shop." He pushed open the door and headed towards a small separate building across a charming creek from the gazebo. We crossed a fairytale bridge, passed under an archetypical southern front porch, and walked into your standard golf shop, replete with shoes, bags, balls, and logo shirts.

"Welcome to my res!" joked Jacob, I assumed making Native American jokes. There was a handsome dark-haired young man at the cash register. He smiled indulgently at Jacob and inquiringly at me. "This is Bella Swan, the new chef," he introduced me, "Bella, this is Seth one of my assistants. He proves that being loony isn't genetic." I saw a frown briefly pass over Seth's face, and I wondered if this was a reference to the mysterious Leah from the clothing shop. Once again Jacob's lament about having no one our age seemed superfluous. Seth was clearly my generation as well.

"Anyway, I'm just showing Bella around before she heads to her suite. I wanted to let her see our domain at least quickly." Seth smiled at me shyly, but I also thought there might be an apologetic component to it. "Nice to meet you, Seth, the store is very nice," I said in what I hoped was the appropriate sentiment. Seth looked back at Jacob.

"Are you going to take her to the spa?" he asked. The question seemed loaded. Jacob started shaking his head. "I showed her the tunnel. She can meet Alice later. Alice is a bit much for the abbreviated tour." He looked meaningfully at Seth. He turned back to speak to me. I had started poking at the pink and lavender tennis dresses in the ladies' section.

"Bella, I can take you up to your room now. I know they said you'd be staying in "servant's quarters" or something along those lines, but I can assure you that it is essentially the luxury equivalent of one of the guest suites." Jacob started heading out the other side of the golf shop. I waved good-bye to Seth, who waved back. Now, we were starting back across the lawn on the other side of the creek, behind the gazebo. I could tell we were going the long way; the tunnel would have been quicker.

We entered the building from an entrance clearly meant for guests. It was an elaborate screened door with pastel pink drapes and beautiful etched glass. Jacob jogged up a quick set of carpet stairs, and we were back on the main floor. Off to our left was the Main Dining Room. I could see into its cavernous spaces. The ceiling was carved wood and truly beautiful. I was responsible for the menu in here, but not for the food, except on Sunday brunch. Apparently, The Homestead was famous for cinnamon doughnuts. I had to start studying the recipe.

Jacob led me to an antique elevator. He pulled aside the iron grate and we clamored inside. He punched the button for the top floor, and I was momentarily reminded of the old elevators at the Ahwahnee Hotel in Yosemite National Park. I realized once again they were probably contemporary. The elevator moved painstakingly slowly up to the top floor. Jacob turned to me, serious for a moment, facing me in the enclosed space.

"I'll let you rest once we get to your room. I guess Eric, the idiot valet, is bringing up your things from your truck," I smiled and nodded, grateful that Eric had kept his end of the bargain. "I guess you'll want to unpack. Maybe tomorrow we can go to dinner in town. I'll show you my neighborhood and the rest of the area. My house is on the 16th fairway of the Old Course. You'll want to find your own place soon, right?" I smiled and shrugged. I wasn't sure if he was asking me on a date or not. I wasn't sure if I wanted to say yes or not. He was gorgeous for sure, but I'd gotten a definite lady-killer impression today, and that was not my style. We had left the elevator and moved down another pastel hallway. We paused outside of a numbered room; Jacob pulled out a key and opened the door. I vaguely wondered when he'd had time to retrieve the key. I was shocked by what I saw inside.

The room was covered with a dark, thick green carpet. The bedspread and chairs were covered in heavy cream-colored damask with a delicate ivy pattern woven onto the surface. Dainty pink and green curtains hung on the windows, which opened onto a lovely view of evergreen trees and mist. A sitting area was decked out in beautiful white wooden furniture with golden accents. I could see into a large marble bathroom beyond an enormous closet filled with clothes. I poked my head in and saw several chef's coats and comfy black yoga pants hanging on the racks. Each of the coats was embroidered with my name. Underneath it said, "The Homestead, Executive Chef." I smiled to myself, feeling excitement build in my chest. I turned back toward Jacob to thank him.

He was standing at the door, looking uncertain for the first time since I'd met him. I realized I hadn't answered him about dinner. "Sure, let's meet for dinner tomorrow night, that sounds fun," I said. He smiled but still didn't look like the earlier Jacob.

"Bella," he began. "I'm not sure how to say this without sounding weird, but we are in the middle of nowhere so maybe chalk it up to nerves," he said. I waited, raising my eyebrows to signal for him to continue. He cleared his throat.

"Just don't wander around the hotel at night by yourself," my eyebrows disappeared into my hair at this. He laughed nervously but continued. "I stayed here at first, too, and it is just creepy late at night. Your mind might be going a mile a minute with your new responsibilities, but just stay here in your room to work it out," he finished earnestly. I giggled a little and saw him start to smile sheepishly, too.

"Sure, Black, thanks for the warning," I said with bravado. He smiled and moved back into the corridor. "I'll talk to you tomorrow," I said closing the door behind him. I rested my back against the closed door, finally alone. I thought Jacob's warning was a little silly, but I could easily see myself not sleeping a wink tonight. I sank into one of the silk-covered chairs, exhausted but more wound up than I'd ever been.

A/N: Yes, The Homestead, which I do not own, did burn to the ground in 1901. Fortuitous timing for a Twilight fanfiction writer, no?

This chapter was so boring to write. I am anxious to get to the new stuff. I hope the next part flows more easily…


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I huffed and rolled over in bed. I was twisted up in my ridiculously comfortable duvet with my arms flung upwards toward the headboard. I just couldn't seem to fall asleep. Damn Jacob for putting the idea of insomnia in my head! I turned my head slightly toward the digital read-out on the clock taunting me on the bedside.

_3:00_

Crap, wasn't that some sort of devil time? Laura Linney was in that movie about an exorcism. Didn't she wake up to a demon in her house at exactly 3 AM? I turned over again, facing the window, and forcefully closed my eyes. Now I felt naked with my back to the door. I huffed again throwing myself into a sitting position with the heels of my hands pressed into my eyes. I sat for a minute like that, Indian-style, with my elbows on my thighs. There was only one thing that would help me sleep now. No matter how spooked I was right now, I was not going to listen to Jacob and stay put. I needed warm milk at the least, but probably hot chocolate would be the only cure for my ailments. Jacob had kept me out of the kitchen earlier, but I wouldn't be kept away now. That was my happy place. I could probably snore peacefully stretched out over the range.

I was already decent in leggings and an oversized T-shirt. I quickly threw a long, comfy cardigan over top and added a pair of Easy Spirit slide sneakers. Hey, I'm on my feet all day, and those suckers are comfortable if not stylish! I opened the door and peaked into the passageway. Nothing. Just quiet darkness and attractive lighted sconces spaced out along the walls. The hidden hardwood creaked as I moved quietly down the carpeted hallway toward the elevator. I no longer felt creeped out or nervous. It was actually nice to move around unfettered, no one to impress.

I took the elevator down to the main floor and exited toward my right, headed back down where I knew the restaurant area to be. I passed quickly through the empty lobby and into the shopping promenade. The shops were dark and closed up tight. I smiled at the incongruous Christmas tree once again as I went by. I didn't know exactly where the entrance to the kitchen was, and I didn't have a key, so I slowed down to look more closely. I saw the President's Lounge and the stairway into the tunnel. I thought the Main Dining Room must be ahead down this hallway. We hadn't gone straight through this area earlier today, detouring instead out to the lawn and pro-shop, so I was a little turned around. Suddenly, a room opened up to my right. I stopped momentarily distracted. It was a library.

The one thing that could possibly sidetrack me from my search for a kitchen was a library. I slowly moved into the room, fascinated. It was paneled in dark wood just like the rest of the public rooms in the old wing, only it was also covered in old framed photographs. There were four central pillars in the center of the room, and two tables to outside of the area framed by the pillars, which were covered with games. I realized one was set up for checkers and the other for chess. Straight ahead of me was a wall of windows looking out onto the large wooden front porch. The windows were latched with large antique metal contraptions that I bet allowed them to swing out in warm weather. Lining the window wall were several wicker lounge chairs like you would see next to a swimming pool, except these were covered with a lovely soft cushion that called out to me in my tired state. The room was dimly lit by sconces on the walls, but it was light enough to read or play games regardless of the time. Right now the slight darkness just seemed peaceful, not menacing in any way. I bet I wasn't the only guest who sought out the charming room late at night.

I wanted to stop and browse the photos posted on the wall, but I was drawn to the eastern most lounge chair. I moved slowly toward it, gingerly placing a knee on the edge and leaning toward the nearby bookcase. The books were worn, like what you might find at your grandmother's lake house, dusty and loved, but not special. The book closest to me was a thick, gray tome. I reached tentatively to pull it out. I was rewarded with a cloud of dust, but the book came free. I shifted on the cushion, twisting myself around into a reclining position against the back of the lounge. I pulled the book to my chest and giggled. Gone With the Wind, by Margaret Mitchell. I was definitely in the South. Well, I hadn't read this book. Maybe this could be my midnight companion, helping me through my insomnia. Definitely less calories than the type of hot chocolate that I favored, I thought smiling. I started to flip through it a bit.

A movement to my right suddenly caught my attention. I sat up quickly with a gasp. I had thought the room was rectangular, but it wasn't. There was a heavy curtain that hung along the eastern wall covering the quarter of the wall closest to the windows. I could see brighter light peeping around the edges of the curtain. There was a room beyond, and it seemed to be occupied. My nerves came rushing back. I threw the book to the side and jumped up.

The curtain was rippling like someone had just gone underneath. I was convinced someone was messing with me. I had a host of suspects. Eric, the overeager valet, and Tyler, the arrogant concierge were at the top of list. I didn't suspect Jacob since I knew he lived offsite, but the Cullens were another possibility. They had behaved in a way outside of normal social interaction this morning, right? What if they were behind the curtain? It could be Leah, who didn't seem to be a fan of this particular culinary celebrity. I took a deep, calming breath, planted my feet shoulder width apart, and placed my hands on my hips. I closed my eyes, took a step forward, and wrenched the curtain aside.

Empty. I saw an empty cul-de-sac. The windows and porch didn't extend this far east, leaving a small private alcove. There was a "window" seat covered with a similar soft cushion to those in the main room that was arranged just where the windows ended off to my right. Straight ahead, the cubby wall was covered with old photos. An exquisite antique sconce was arranged on the wall just above my height. It seemed more elaborate than those in the main room. To my left was an antique writing desk with books enclosed in the upper shelves, slumbering peacefully behind heavy leaded glass. The lower drawers were closed, but I did wonder what was inside. There was also an antique chair that looked as if it had been haphazardly flung away from the desk in a hurry, like the occupant had been startled away. Recently.

I stood still for a moment, absorbing what had happened. There was no one here. Although it seemed as if someone had been recently and left in a hurry, there was no other exit. I decided the late hour and atmosphere were getting to me. I suddenly felt very tired, no need for warm milk, chocolate or not. I shook my head and pushed the curtain aside. I slowly made my way back through the library, the promenade, and the lobby to the elevator. I rode in silence to the top level and headed back to my room. I pushed my way into the room with the key and sank back into that delicious duvet. I was almost instantly asleep, feeling vindicated by my silly romp downstairs as my last flashes of awareness dimmed.

My evening adventure was now forgotten. I stood in the midst of my kitchen, blood electric in my veins, receiving report from my new sous chef. I'd met Ben early this morning, somewhat sluggish at first, tiredness quickly forgotten however once I got a load of my new domain. Ben was detailing our usual shipping patterns, discussing recent menus, and giving me the general tour at the moment. Rosalie, the pastry chef, was helping out, but mostly working on her desserts for the Sunday brunch tomorrow morning. I had been nervous at first, given the fact that they were both at least ten years older than me, but they seemed really nice, without the shoulder chip about which I'd been concerned. I had already learned that Rosalie's husband was a real estate agent who handled premiere properties in the resort area. She'd given me a knowing smile when she related the fact that Emmett had sold Jacob his house on the golf course. I didn't quite care for the connotation, but I had already asked her to help set me up with Emmett for an appointment. She said that Emmett would be thrilled to help me out. Apparently, he'd loved my show and couldn't wait to meet me. I hoped I would sleep better in my own home, although I expected the coming months to be stressful no matter what. I was kind of regretting leaving Gone with the Wind down in the library. Housekeeping would probably have replaced it on the shelf by now, but I was thinking of stopping by there before bed and bringing it up to my room for later.

Rosalie was bent over in the walk-in refrigerator when I came up behind her. She was checking for ingredients; I watched her tap her chin with her index finger while scrutinizing a basket of pears. "Rosalie…" I started. She jumped, slightly startled, and turned back towards me. Her blond hair was slicked back in an elegant but practical bun. Once she recovered, she smiled at me.

"Sorry to startle you," I apologized. "I just wondered if you knew much about the Cullen's." I finished. I still felt the most unsettling part of my first day had to do with my interaction with them. I had expected Mr. Cullen to stop by the kitchen this morning, but he hadn't. Rosalie eyed me warily.

"Well, Bella, I don't know much, but my experience has told me that they are a devoted couple who have given many years to each other and this hotel. I won't deny that they often give me the creeps, but they seem to truly love each other and every miniscule detail of the hotel" she got more animated, obviously having thought through her answer. I wondered why she'd given it such consideration. "I especially admire her devotion to her career. Not many women of her era went that far into academia. I mean, she married Mr. Cullen in the early 50's, right? She's a well-respected anthropologist and, apparently, prolific author in her field despite being a socialite. She's kind of a female academic pioneer. I think she was a professor at Mary Baldwin College for years. As far as I know, she's kind of cutting edge and controversial. I really respect that."

So, Rosalie was a feminist. I wondered what she thought of me, knowing how the true feminist contingent attacked me on the blogs while I was on TV. At least Emmett reportedly loved me. She continued on her semi-tirade, "She seemed really interested in Emmett and I when I was first hired here, but she just totally lost interest after awhile. So, I wouldn't worry, I think she must get bored easily." Rose laughed, an almost giggle, and she seemed less formal than before. I started to relax around her a bit more. "Anyway, if you want the real dirt on anyone around here, you should really ask Alice," she said.

"Alice," I said. "Jacob and Seth mentioned her yesterday." Rose looked at me warily again.

"What did they say?" she demanded. I was surprised by her hostile tone. "Nothing, except that she works in the spa and was 'a bit much' for the short tour." I quoted. Rose relaxed and laughed again.

"Well, I guess that's not sugar-coating it!" she said smiling. "I was worried they might say something worse. There's no reason to go into that now," she continued, "but you do need to meet Alice. We make jokes, but she's very professional, runs the spa extremely well. You'll really like her; she's entertaining to have around. Why don't we try to meet at my house for dinner? I promise not to make pear galette," she said, motioning toward the pears.

I frowned a bit concerned about the direction of the conversation. "Well, I'd already agreed to meet Jacob for dinner tonight. Could we take a rain check? I would love to meet Alice; she sounds fun," I finished my best conciliatory speech.

Rose returned my frown. "Bella, be careful," she said and nothing more. I guess she registered my panicked face, and her expression softened. "Don't misunderstand me, please," she said, "but be careful around Jacob Black. He could mean bad news for you." I nodded, worried that the dinner invite had been retracted, but then Rose continued. "How about Monday night for dinner?" she asked. I nodded gratefully. "Sunday nights I'm a limp noodle after all the desserts for the brunch. Anyway, I think Ben wants to discuss your ideas for the opening menu," she gestured toward the prep tables where Ben had appeared with a laptop computer. He was smiling hesitantly in our direction. Once again apprehension began to fade, as I once again found myself in my element.

The day had been a success. Ben and I had brainstormed in a very collaborative manner about the opening menu, and I was feeling confident and in control. Ben and Rose had to get ready for the evening dinner service so I excused myself to my room to mull over the details and familiarize myself with our suppliers via very boring spreadsheets. What was I going to eat for dinner? Ben had promised to send up some of the fried chicken for my enjoyment. While I knew we'd go traditional with this in the Main Dining Room, I hoped to come up with some inspiration for creative variations at 1766 Grille. I'd always been taught that shrimp and grits was a traditional southern dish but I was now learning that the south was divided into some pretty distinct regions with different delicacies.

My thoughts were on fried goodness when I entered the room. I closed the door haphazardly, daydreaming, and moved into the main area of the room. The rain had stopped, and I was getting a faint reddish sunset petering through my tall windows. My attention was focused there, when I sank into the edge of my bed. My hip encountered something hard and pointy, and I started, surprised. There was a tattered gray book lying on top of my duvet cover. Puzzled, I picked it up and turned it over in my hands. Gone with the Wind, by Margaret Mitchell, the cover read. I dropped the book like a hot potato, and it landed pitifully on the floor of my room. I jumped to standing position immediately scanning the room for intruders.

Slowly, I took deep breaths and calmed myself. Of course, there was no one here. There was no supernatural explanation for this but a sinister natural one. I could only think of one, well two, people who would be capable of this. The Cullen's must have been watching me last night, or had someone else follow me. But why? I was completely incensed at having my privacy invaded in such a way. Heading straight to my truck and driving away occurred to me, but I quickly squelched that thought, my self-preservation winning out. I would have to talk to them, explain my feelings. Surely they would understand I felt violated. Maybe this was a southern thing, an innocent way to make sure I was comfortable, but I was decided. Charlie would have been shocked at my resolve.

I was down the hallway in the elevator before I could blink. Next thing I knew I was back on the second floor knocking at those unsettling, out of place wooden doors. As they slowly swung open, I caught sight of Mr. Cullen standing there straight-backed and spry. I pushed my way inside, and I caught a glimpse of his surprised expression. However, he acquiesced quickly stepping back and waving me in. I couldn't understand why his expression had morphed into one of amusement when I looked back at him. This just made me angrier.

"Mr. Cullen, I'm very pleased with what I am finding here at The Homestead. If you are concerned that I might need something or are concerned about my presence here, then you should speak directly to me," I said stiffly. His jaw dropped, and he looked completely confused. I started to back pedal a bit. Had I been wrong? Surely not, but if there was some other explanation, then I was making a fool of myself. The adrenaline was wearing off, and I started to stutter. "Um, I mean, if need a book to read, I don't need help…and, um…if I can't sleep, don't worry about it…I, uh, don't want to cause any…umm…trouble?" Again with the sentences ending like questions when I didn't mean them that way! I put my hand to my forehead, blush covering my cheeks. Maybe I was losing it. Then, I looked back at Mr. Cullen.

His eyes were wide, nostrils flared. He looked surprised, almost afraid. We stared at each other for a minute, and he seemed to register my bewilderment, but then the smooth mask eased back into place. "Miss Swan, my sincerest apologies, but I have no clue what you are talking about. Why don't you tell me what has you so upset? Did something happen last night? Did you leave your room? Did you see someone?" I thought his questions were odd, too calm. He didn't seem surprised or offended enough. My intuition flickered, and I felt less silly, less uncertain. Either he was involved in spying on me, or else he knew someone else who would be likely to do such a thing. All I knew is that he wasn't my ally, and I needed to extract myself gracefully from this situation. I started to shake my head and mutter something self-deprecating about being exhausted, when he grabbed my wrist a bit too tightly and forced me to look him in the eye.

"Miss Swan, did you see someone? Have you been in the library or the tunnel alone?" his eyes bored into mine. I felt trapped as if I was a mouse and he the poisonous snake. I was frozen for a moment, but then I started to slowly shake my head back and forth.

"No, I just was tired last night but couldn't sleep. I was just nervous and thought I saw a shadow in the hall. I'm so sorry for barging in here. I'm exhausted; please don't hold this against me. I swear I'm not a crazy person!" I forced myself to joke, exit strategy my only thought. I was babbling whatever I could that was superficial, focused only on getting back to my room. Something was up, and I had sought the exact wrong person to try and sort things out.

A fake smile was plastered on my face, but he seemed placated, patting my arm comfortingly. "Miss Swan, please get rest. I have high hopes for you. Let me know if you are having problems. I'm sure a doctor could prescribe something to help you relax. That's better than wandering out of your room late at night," he looked at me disapprovingly, but it wasn't lost on me that he wasn't the first to warn me not to leave my room at night. What was going on around here? What was being hidden from me and why? I smiled, nodding, pretending to be consoled, but nothing could keep me hidden in my room tonight. That was one thing I knew with certainty.

A/N: I read the majority of Breaking Dawn for the first time in the library at The Homestead in September 2008. Yes, it was cold and rainy. And the waitress, bringing in hot drinks for the loungers wore a name tag that read "Esme." My middle name is Grace, so that is the genesis of my penname.

I have a fairly rigorous day job, so I can only hope to write about 3-4000 words every ten days. I've been thinking it would be best to get a short chapter down rather than holding it to make a longer chapter. What do you think? I'm not sure how many are reading. It seems like I'm getting hits but have only gotten one review, so maybe no one is reading, and I should really do this however I like. Anyway, if you are out there and have a preference then, please, feel free to weigh in…


	5. Chapter 5

As usual, I don't own Twilight, but I do own a new obsession with Aidan on Being Human Syfy…

Chapter 5

The door slammed shut behind me, and I stood panting in my room. Now that the adrenaline was draining away, I felt embarrassment color my cheeks. Had I just barged in on my new boss and accused him of spying on me? Maybe I did need a doctor to examine my head as he'd suggested. I squeezed my eyes shut and ran a hand over my face in a gesture probably meant to wipe away the last half hour. He'd been pretty decent about it, I reassured myself. Although that really didn't sit well with me, either; I still felt like something was being kept from me. It was getting late, so I reached for the phone to cancel the fried chicken from the kitchen. Spending time with Jacob Black was last thing I felt like doing now, but I had promised to meet him for a late dinner. I longed to cancel on him, but I had decided to keep my social networking options open, part of my vow to be more outgoing. Just as my hand touched the receiver, it rang.

I jumped, startled, and lifted the handle off of the cradle. "Hello," I said praying it wasn't my boss calling to take back his understanding attitude. "Bells!" an unfamiliar voice called heartily. "Yes, who is this?" I asked hesitantly, surprised by the overly familiar nickname. "It's Jacob! Sorry but I've got to take a rain check on the orientation dinner," he called louder than necessary through the phone. My first instinct was to feel miffed that he acted as if _I_ were the one who'd asked _him_ out to dinner. Relief soon replaced that feeling.

I had to concentrate to keep that relief out of my tone. "Oh, well, too bad, but I actually have a lot to do here at the kitchen, so that's fine, Jacob. We can do it another time," I tried to answer evenly. "Oh, babe, don't be disappointed. I promise to make it up to you," he said suggestively, as if he hadn't heard my last statement. I could hear music and voices in the background, but quietly, as if he was shielding the receiver with his hands. I was annoyed to be blown off when I had wanted to cancel myself; I wished I could tell him that, but I had been petty enough today already. He must have had a fair amount to drink if he thought he was being subtle. I was starting to form a clear picture of the character of Jacob Black.

"Seriously, Jake, no worries," I emphasized. "Rosalie has already invited me to dinner with Alice from the spa, so I can take them up on their offer. I'll be in good hands," I reassured. I heard a sharp intake of breath from the other end. "Sure, sure, have fun, but don't believe all the stories, those gossips have to tell," he warned. I extricated myself from the conversation, quite convinced by the time we hung up that he was more than three sheets to the wind. I decided to head back to the kitchen to pick up a chicken snack and find out if Rosalie's offer still stood.

When I entered the kitchen, Ben was plating beautiful fried chicken breasts. "What are you doing?" I laughed. "You don't have to actually make it pretty for me!" He smiled sheepishly. "What's the crime in trying to impress my new boss," he teased. Rosalie peeked around a corner, her chef's hat teetering precariously. I smiled in her direction, while picking at the chicken. I realized I hadn't had anything since breakfast early this morning.

"Is your offer for dinner with you and Alice still good?" I questioned. She raised her eyebrows. "And what happened to the esteemed Mr. Black?" she asked. I shrugged, really not wanting to go into detail. I was happy not to have to meet him but still quite aware I'd been blown off. I didn't know these girls well enough yet to start dishing about stuff like that. Luckily, she let it drop.

"Sure, I'm out of here around nine, and Alice finishes up around the same time. Do you want to meet at the spa and head out together?" she inquired. "That sounds great," I answered actually feeling excited about new friends. I also had an ulterior motive. I was going to grill these girls about the Cullen's, the hotel, and what the hell could possibly be going on around here. I just had to figure out how to do it without showing my cards, i.e. making myself sound like a lunatic. Plus, by the time I got back from dinner, it would be late enough to do some sleuthing through the library and lower floor. I smiled, picturing myself as Nancy Drew.

My evening had turned out better than expected. At the moment, I was polishing off salted caramel ice cream with cocoa nibs that Rosalie had brought from the restaurant. Alice had leaned back and relinquished the container to me, having reached her limit. Rosalie was giggling at her wounded expression. We'd had a really easy rapport, chatting about the hotel, our lives, and, of course, celebrity gossip. We speculated a bit about Tom Colicchio's sexuality and whether or not Tony Bourdain regularly cheats on his wife. I genuinely liked these girls and was basking in my contentment over possibly fitting into a group for once, but my mission was niggling at me. I knew I couldn't wait any longer to dig in.

"So, Alice, I've asked a few people about the Cullen's, and they have all said that I should ask you," I ventured. Alice was petite in the extreme, wearing a black yoga outfit that she somehow made look like a nightclub ensemble. I had learned that she had previously worked in the spa at the Beau Rivage in Biloxi, MS, but left the Gulf after Katrina and ended up here at The Homestead as the spa manager. From what Rosalie had alluded, she was practically a psychic, knowing everything that occurred on resort property. Rosalie admitted that her knowledge was occasionally uncanny and her questions were often intrusive. I needed her; it was as simple as that. Alice beamed at me; she loved sharing information.

"Oh, Bella, I'd love to share this story. It should be romantic in the extreme, but the Cullen's are creepy, especially Mrs. Cullen. So, I don't know what the real moral is. But, I feel like it is important for you to know, like your integrally involved already, do you know what I mean?" she started enthusiastically. I caught Rosalie shaking her head with an amused expression and figured this type of statement was just an Alice-ism. I just smiled encouragingly because I wanted her to get on with it.

"Well, Mr. Cullen was a dashing war hero. He was the second youngest person ever to get naval aviator wings. He flew the TBF Avenger, which was a big bomber" she gestured wildly with her hands. "My boyfriend is a big war buff, so he knows all this stuff. It helps me remember," Rosalie cleared her throat loudly, and Alice jumped. It seemed that Alice had some trouble telling a straight story. Alice looked at Rosalie guiltily, and I shifted impatiently in my seat while she got back on track. "Anyway, he was stationed on the USS Hornet in the Pacific and did a bunch of important stuff, which earned him a bunch of medals. The first Hornet sank, but the second one is docked in Alameda, CA, and is supposed to be haunted," she ventured off topic again excitedly but realized it when faced with Rose's glare. She dropped her head, chastened, and continued, "Then, when the war was over he went to Cornell to the Hotel School. His family was big stuff in Chicago, but I think he actually earned his way through everything he did, from what I've discerned," she paused with an odd look on her face, like she was enjoying a private joke. "Then, he came here in 1951. Really soon after he arrived, Senator Harry Byrd came on vacation with his lovely daughter, Victoria. The story gets a little sketchy here," she leaned in conspiratorially, "because apparently Mr. Cullen proposed, and Victoria said no. He was devastated and apparently disappeared for a few days. The hotel owner was concerned," Alice was really getting into her storytelling, widening her eyes and making exaggerated facial expressions. Rose caught my eye, making a little frown. I felt sure she was trying to keep from laughing. However, I was interested in this story and waved Alice on.

"Anyway, Mr. Cullen suddenly reappeared after a few days and acted as if nothing happened. He went right up to Victoria and told her he did not accept her refusal and planned to continue to court her. I guess he won her over, and they've been together ever since," she heaved a sigh at the romantic end to the story. I had to admit, it was quite romantic, but I couldn't bring myself to feel warm and fuzzy about this couple. There was more to them than what met the eye, I was sure.

"Surely, it was a bit unusual for Mrs. Cullen to go on and complete her education?" I fished, remembering Rosalie's comments from earlier. She took the bait. "Yes, I admire her for that," Rosalie piped up. "She went on to get her PhD in anthropology and is a well-respected authority on, and I quote, 'shamanism, spiritualism, spirit world intermediaries, mediums, and parapsychology'," Rosalie made air quotes with her fingers as she said this, and I gathered she read, or at least looked through the book. I noticed Alice was grimacing a little at this exclamation.

"Rosalie, you know that stuff can be dangerous. Someone like Mrs. Cullen really shouldn't be dabbling in it." Rosalie huffed a bit, her go-girl attitude at war with her general feelings of dislike for Mrs. Cullen. "Well, Alice, she has a PhD, so I think she's probably qualified," Rosalie spat. Alice leaned back with a doubtful look on her face. "That's not what I meant…" she trailed off and looked at us. I felt like she meant to say more but decided not to continue. I didn't push it because I figured I'd gotten the gist of the story. Now I had to figure out how to bring the conversation around to my mysterious experience in the library and the manager's possible awareness of it. I had to phrase this carefully so I didn't end up sounding like a crazy person. I cleared my throat and Rosalie and Alice's eyes snapped to me, breaking their glaring contest.

"Last night I couldn't sleep so I wandered into the library," I began. Rosalie looked at me expectantly, obviously not intrigued by this beginning. Alice pursed her lips suspiciously, waiting to see where this was going. "It seemed like someone might have been watching me," I continued, "I guess it could have been anyone, even a hotel guest, but for some reason, I just have a bad vibe about the Cullen's," I concluded. I hunched my shoulders, bracing for their reactions. I had tried to avoid the crazy, but a bit of it still popped through. I didn't want to ruin this budding rapport. Alice reached for my hand.

"Don't worry, Bella," she reassured. "You're not the only one to feel that way. There's something about the hotel, negative energy maybe. Sometimes I can almost put my finger on it, describe it, but then I lose it. It's like there's something here. I have premonitions, you know," she looked at me seriously. Rose rolled her eyes and starting shaking her head back and forth. She sat up straight from the cushion that she had leaned against until now. "Rose, don't interrupt me," Alice kept going, ignoring Rosalie's body language, "I know you don't believe in that stuff, but Victoria does, and that is why she tolerates me." Alice turned back to me. "Bella, I do get an uneasy vibe about your future. I won't lie about that. Normally, I wouldn't be so blunt with someone I just met, but I do know that the hotel is happy you're here. Something good is going to happen," she beamed at me. At this Rosalie grabbed the ice cream container off the side table where I'd forgotten it and huffed her way into the kitchen.

I was a bit disappointed. I'd hoped for concrete answers or at least theories, but all I got was Alice's mumbo jumbo. I understood Rosalie's reaction. She'd probably gotten similar from her in the past. But, I did like Alice, so I just thanked her for her candor. It was after 11, and I was anxious to get back to the hotel and search for the answers myself.

I went through my pre-bed routine once back in my room but with no intention of going to sleep. I wanted to wait until at least 1 am before sallying forth. I picked up Gone With the Wind and started reading to pass the time. I had to admit Miss O'Hara's antics were entertaining. I heard the single chime and tossed the book aside, putting on my long cardigan and Easy Spirits. I exited my room quietly, heading toward the library again. There was not another soul around, the passageways dim and silent. I entered the library, and it looked just as I had left it. I suddenly felt very silly. What was I hoping to find here? I slumped onto a chaise lounge and looked up at the ceiling. I was momentarily distracted by the crown molding. It was a lovely specimen, and I tried to remember if it was the same in my restaurant's dining room. Suddenly, just as I had the night before, I thought I glimpsed movement out of the corner of eye. The curtain hiding the alcove, swayed slightly, as if caught in a breeze. I moved stealthily to my feet and inched toward it. Once there, I pinched the material between my fingers and roughly jerked it back, revealing the alcove. I gasped in surprise. Tonight, it was not empty.

A young man, a very handsome one at that, was seated at the desk inside the alcove. He was wearing what I thought at first was a tuxedo, but then I realized it was actually an old-fashioned dinner dress suit. He was staring at me in shock, probably the mirror of my own expression. He hastily replaced the book he had been pulling from the open glass-covered shelves above the desk and stood awkwardly. I continued to stare like an idiot, desperately searching for some words to say. I felt like I recognized him; he seemed so familiar. I decided he must be a maitre d' for the restaurant, given his attire. I opened my mouth to speak.

"Hello, I apologize. You startled me. I thought I was alone in here," I laughed nervously, trying to alleviate some of the tension of the moment. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped open. I noticed then that his eyes were very green. His skin was fair with pink undertones, and his hair was a lovely reddish-brown, that some might describe as bronze or copper. Irrationally, I thought that his appearance was the opposite of Jacob and that it appealed to me more. Then, I realized that he was still staring at me as if I had two heads and had yet to answer my platitudes. He shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts and looked at me as if he might have something to say at last. Then, his eyes narrowed and his brow lowered. He strode forward, pushing past me, muttering "Please, excuse me," under his breath. And he was gone. A faint breeze lingered nearby, left over from his passing me. I turned in astonishment at his odd behavior to try and follow him, but he was already gone from the library. He must have run once he'd left the alcove.

My mind whirled at this recent development. This stranger with his bizarre behavior must have been the one watching me the other night and the person who had snuck the book into my room. Who was he? Why would he go to such trouble with the book and then act almost angry when I tried to speak to him? I couldn't shake the sense that I'd seen him before; he just seemed so damned familiar. He must work here given his attire, but I couldn't recall seeing him before. That pretty face would have stuck out in my mind. Why would he still be in his uniform this late? I sighed and leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling tired. It was almost 2 am, after all. One of the many frames was poking against my hair behind my ear. I swatted at it and pushed away from the wall. I glanced at the frame cursorily, planning to head back to my room, but, suddenly, it had my full attention. It was him in the photograph, albeit this version of him was smiling, his eyes twinkling with suppressed mirth. I grabbed the frame off the wall to inspect the photograph more closely. It wasn't labeled or dated, so I couldn't place the occasion or his role in it. All the photographs were in black and white, even the modern ones. He was dressed in the same old-fashioned uniform, devastatingly handsome. I put the frame back on the wall and inspected the surrounding photographs. It wasn't much help. They were all arranged haphazardly, one from the 1930's next to one obviously from the 1960s with an obviously modern photos next to that. The obviously modern photo was of Mr. Cullen shaking hands with the House Minority Leader at a formal dinner. It must be one of the newer photographs in here. I paused to examine the familiar faces when it hit me. Mr. Cullen resembled the handsome young man. It was hidden by gray hair and age, but it was definitely there. That was why he looked so familiar to me, their features were strikingly similar. I volleyed my gaze back and forth becoming more certain now. Mr. Cullen must have a grandson. Tomorrow I would unravel this mystery, I promised myself as I left the library, swiftly moving across the lobby. I kept my head up, eyes alert, in case I ran into the mystery man on the way.

I smiled ruefully as I let myself back into my room after an uneventful trip. I was going to have to start paying more attention to food or this mystery would derail my true purpose for being here.

A/N: Kudos to anyone who can tell me who the youngest person ever designated as an American naval aviator was. I'd also like to mention that Sen. Harry Byrd is another real historical figure, a Senator from Virginia who served for years. He did not have a daughter named Victoria, but he did stay at The Homestead. The USS Hornet (CV-8) is one of the most celebrated and decorated carriers in the history of the US Navy. It was integral in the Battle of Midway and the sinking of two Japanese carriers (the important stuff to which Alice refers) as well as launching the aircraft for the Doolittle Raid.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: I don't own Twilight. I'm going to try and finish this over the next 3 weeks. The chapters will be short but come quickly. I've only gotten 5 reviews, so I'm guessing that no one is really reading, but if you are, please tell me what you think.

Chapter 6

I dragged myself out of bed the next morning, groaning at the lack of rest I'd gotten over the last two nights. I had to get some answers today, or I would collapse from fatigue before the week was out. It was just after dawn, and I was observing brunch service this morning. I thought back to the handsome, young man I had seen in the library, dreamily recalling his perfect features and piercing green eyes, while I hastily pulled on my clothes. I frowned, remembering his surly attitude after I spoke. What was that about? I resolved to inquire craftily about Cullen relatives at the soonest opportunity.

This opportunity presented itself in short order. I was moaning in pleasure after having bitten into one of the famous cinnamon doughnuts. I pretended to faint onto my desk, which was shoved into the back corner of the kitchen, while Rosalie playfully smirked at me. We both straightened up when we heard Ben call out loudly, "Good morning, Mr. Cullen," just as the man himself came around the corner. Rose ducked her head and excused herself back to the prep area. He smiled at me, but his gaze was appraising as always, leaving me with a very uncomfortable feeling. I sat down at the desk and nodded toward the chair positioned next to it. He sat down, leaning back and crossing his legs, at perfect ease.

"Learning good things this morning?" he asked, waving his hand in the air to indicate the meal service.

"Yes," I responded. "I think Ben and I are making good progress. I think we have a handle on the menu for Saturday's dinner, and we plan to work on the permanent dinner menu more this afternoon." Even though we were in autumn, it was early enough in September that good local produce was still available. I definitely wanted to focus on that.

Mr. Cullen nodded and continued to look around the kitchen at all the bustle. He hesitated but went on to ask, "Did you sleep better last night?" looking me directly in the eye as he spoke. I panicked briefly but remembered I needed answers in order to get some rest. I steeled myself to fish, but something stopped me short of mentioning the young man out right.

"I've still got a slight case of insomnia. All the excitement, I think," I answered. A little brown-nosing never hurt anyone, I thought slyly. I went on, "I spent an hour or so in the library looking at old photos. It calmed me down, and I fell back asleep easily." He looked at me shrewdly, in such a way that I wondered if he knew I was holding back. And if he did, was he holding back, too? Suddenly, I felt really, really tired. I wasn't cut out for all this subterfuge.

"Did you see anyone else?" he casually inquired, but his eyes held mine expectantly. I forced myself to shake my head and laugh. "Why? Is the hotel supposed to be haunted?" I joked. He was not amused by this, his expression darkening into an almost dangerous one. "Don't be silly, Bella," he snapped, "Old buildings can be dangerous in the dark, that is all. I don't want anything to happen to you while I still need you." I opened my eyes widely with surprise. How rude and self-centered! He made to stand-up. I hurriedly stopped him, desperate to salvage the interview.

"Wait, Mr. Cullen. I wanted to find out if you wanted to invite any of your extended family to the dinner on Saturday. I didn't see any of them on the list," I was secretly gleeful at my subtlety. Maybe I had a future as Nancy Drew, after all. He frowned at me.

"No, Victoria and I don't have children, and I was an only child. It's just us," he said sharply, narrowing his eyes at me. It felt as if we were back to sparring. I nodded and mumbled an apology, trying to seem as if I was embarrassed for introducing a possibly sensitive topic. I watched him pass back through the kitchen, dodging my staff as he went. I was more confused than ever now. How could I explain the identity of the mysterious stranger now? How was it possible that they looked completely identical if they weren't related?

My day continued in this stellar vein when I spotted Jacob Black sauntering through the kitchen picking at platters, popping bits into his mouth, as he passed by them. When he got to me, he slung his arm familiarly around my shoulders and said exuberantly, "Let's take that rain check today, babe!" I shrugged out from under his arm and reprimanded him for touching the food, explaining that could get us in trouble with the Health Department. He looked not a bit abashed and continued to wait expectantly for my response. I fought the urge to refuse, reminding myself not to burn bridges, and acquiesced to a late dinner around 8 PM. He suggested a pub just off property within walking distance, and I agreed to meet him there.

I saw Rosalie frowning at me from across the kitchen as he left. I raised my eyebrows at her in question. She huffed, blowing up a strand of hair that had worked its way out of her bun, and crossed the room toward me. "What?" I asked her. She sighed again. "He just has a really bad reputation with women, Bella," she said defensively, " I think you should talk to Alice before you meet him tonight, get her story. I know she's a little…unique, but he has been really unfair to her since he arrived here. I don't feel like it's my story to tell," she finished piously. I yielded and made arrangements to meet up with Alice at the Spa later on during my lunch break. I made several trips into the dining room throughout the brunch service, always surreptitiously inspecting the waiters and hosts, looking for my mystery man. Not one looked a thing like him.

I made two plates of food and headed for the Spa about 3 PM. Late for lunch, I know, but brunch had just ended and the restaurant was now closed for service while dinner was prepped. Ben and I would work on the menu when I got back. I fought the dread that crept up on me as I passed through the underground tunnel, reminding myself to think of the Biltmore House. Once, I was through and in the spa lobby, I told the receptionist I was there for Alice and took a seat on a plush leather sofa. The room was bathed in soft blues and greens and a fountain trickled down one wall. Alice appeared from a side door and waved at me to follow her. She was grinning hugely. "I love egg casserole, especially with sausage," she said perkily, reaching for one of the covered dishes. I was momentarily surprised she knew what I had brought, but then just chalked it up to another Alice-ism, shaking my head. She shoveled the food into her mouth , perching on the arm of a loveseat in her office, while motioning me to sit on said piece of furniture. I placed my plate on the coffee table in front of me and ate more slowly. Finally, she set down her plate and faced me with a serious expression.

"You're going to dinner with Jacob Black," she began. I nodded, and she continued, "Rosalie wants me to warn you away because she thinks he treated me badly." She grimaced, her tiny features crinkling like a doll. "I slept with him when he first arrived," she admitted, hanging her head, "not my finest moment." I looked at her with surprise, having trouble picturing them together. Alice went on, "Rose doesn't know the whole story. She can be so judgmental about my…gifts." She peered at me from the corners of her eyes, gauging my reaction. I made no move to respond, just waited for more.

"I was drawn to him but didn't know why. He's definitely not my type. Jaspar and I had broken up after a fight, so it seemed like a good reckless romp," she stopped and looked at me, something like fear in her face. "It wasn't." She stood from the arm of the sofa and began pacing in front of the coffee table. "While we were 'together,'" she smiled at her euphemism, " I had a vision, a vision of Jacob's death, of an overwhelming evil that awaits him here at The Homestead. I went into a sort of trance, and he was freaked out. He kicked me out his room and was not nice about it," she said shaking her head and frowning. I inferred that she was making an understatement and cringed.

"He told everyone about it," she continued, "adding fuel to the fire about how weird and quirky I am." She laughed and waved her hand as if she didn't care what he thought, and I believed her. "That's why Rose hates him, for making a fool of me, but the reason I want to tell you this story is because I'm afraid for Jacob, for you, if you are involved with him. There is danger here, but I'm still getting the sense that your presence here is good, somehow healing," she shook her head again, slowly from side to side. "I can't get a clear read on the situation. Believe me, I've tried. Why do you think I came to work here? This hot springs contains ancient power, and my visions are stronger close to it, but I can't get more, no matter how hard I try." She clenched her fists and scrunched her face, pausing her pacing.

Then, she peeked one eye open and looked over at me. Perky, happy Alice was back. "So, do you think I'm crazy or still friend material?" she chirped. I laughed with her and asked her a question about spa treatments to change the subject. She was still friend material, but, to be honest, I was quite overwhelmed by what she had told me. I wasn't sure I was ready to believe in such things. If this hocus pocus was real, then how did it affect me? And I was no closer to figuring out who the stranger in the library was.

I headed back toward the kitchen, my break over. Ben and I need to tinker with our menu a bit more. Dinner service ended early on Sundays, and this would give me time to change and meet Jacob. I had to admit that meeting him now was very unappealing, but I didn't want to back out. I knew he would think it was because of Rosalie and Alice, and I didn't want him to go after Alice again, say more bad things about her. I passed the library and saw the motherly head of housekeeping, Esme, replacing the checkers on one of the game tables. I paused and went inside.

"Hi, Esme," I said smiling at her. We had met yesterday, and she seemed very nice. "I didn't know checkers set up was such an important task, that it required such rank," I teased. She chuckled and put the finishing touches on the board. "Oh, no, I just have a soft spot for this room," she said glancing around. I thought she was probably getting close to 65 years old, but she only had a few lines and a few gray hairs. "My mother worked here before me and sometimes I would play in the alcove," she pointed toward the curtain in the corner. My ears perked up. "So, I guess you remember a lot of the people in these photos," I stated gesturing toward the walls. She smiled and affirmed this. I motioned for her to follow me to the alcove.

"I found this one the other day and wondered who it is. It looks just like Mr. Cullen, but I think the photo is modern," I said, indicating the photo I had examined the night before. She laughed and shook her head. "No, Bella, this IS Mr. Cullen. This photo is from the 1950's, when he was a young man. He was awfully handsome wasn't he?" She shrugged and muttered under her breath. I thought I heard something about a "shame."

I stood frozen on the spot, staring at the photograph. I somehow managed to mumble a good-bye to Esme, who went on about her duties, leaving the library. I looked at the handsome features, the boyish smile, the sparkling eyes, but could not form a coherent thought. How could this be? Who had I seen? And I had seen_ someone_, hadn't I? He spoke to me, right? Suddenly, I wasn't so sure. He hadn't touched me; I had only felt a breeze when he passed me. Could I have dreamed it? Was I so lonely that I was conjuring dream companions? I decided to avoid the library during the night and try my hardest to get some decent sleep. I straightened my back in determination and headed back to the kitchen.


	7. Chapter 7

I'm thrilled and overwhelmed by all the new readers and reviewers! You are all very kind and encouraging.

Thanks so much to Sebastien Robichaud for recommending my story in the latest update of his fantastic story, The Ice Queen and Mr. McCarty. If you are not reading it, you should be. Actually, I'm sure most of you are since you came over here from there! OK, let's keep this moving along…

I don't own Twilight. I'm tired of typing this, so this goes for the rest of the chapters, too!

**Chapter 7**

As I walked toward the pub to meet Jacob, I briefly considered all the things I'd rather be doing: washing my hair, cleaning a toilet, poking out my eye… I shook my head and squared my shoulders as I climbed the three short steps to the restaurant's door. It was a heavy wooden specimen with elaborate gold trim. A Guinness sign was blinking in the window. It is true that no matter where you go, you can always find a good Irish pub. I glanced back across the street before going inside. The pub was located just at the edge of resort property in a small collection of businesses known as "The Village." The main spa entrance lay directly across the narrow lane. I figured I was doing this to avoid further retaliation against Alice. I could manage a few hours of small talk and avoid Jacob further, I was sure. He would no doubt find me a boring companion and move on. I needed my wits about me to survive the restaurant opening and to solve the mystery of the young man in the library. I didn't need another distraction.

I pulled the heavy door open and spotted Jacob sitting in a secluded booth in the opposite corner of the restaurant. Damn, I'd been hoping to just sit at the bar, much more casual. He stood up in a surprisingly gentleman-like gesture as I approached. His smile was friendly, not smarmy, and I hoped this was a good sign. We chatted pleasantly for several minutes while perusing the menu. I ordered the vegetarian shepherd's pie with mushrooms, and Jacob ordered a rare roast beef sandwich. The pub was fairly full, and the food going by looked pretty good. This seemed to be a nice hang out. I had just started to relax and almost enjoy myself, when Jacob rose and slid into my side of the booth beside me. I cringed away from him; he was way too close! However, Jacob had other ideas. He stared deeply into my eyes.

"Bella, I know we just met, but I feel close to you in a way I can't describe," he said intently. My mouth dropped open incredulously. Was this guy for real? I looked in his serious face and held in my outraged response. He didn't seem to be giving me a line. He really looked like he meant what he said, however completely cheesy it was. I decided to play dumb and gave a weak chuckle.

"Oh, Jacob, you jokester," I said breathily. His eyebrows pulled together, and he shook his head. "Bella, I know you think I sound crazy, but I really feel like there is something here between us. I can't stop thinking about you. It's like someone cast a spell over me. I don't feel like myself anymore," he declared as he reached for my hand. Dumb obviously wasn't working. I tried a different tact and shoved hard against his shoulder, jerking my hand away. "Move!" I said firmly, while shoving again. This guy was like a rock.

He looked hurt and sad but complied and moved back to the other side of the booth. "I guess I'm scaring you, coming on too strong," he said, "but I don't believe in holding in my feelings. Sometimes I'm in control around you, like the first day during the tour, but I'm not right now. I just think my future is tied up with yours, and I won't deny it." He really was starting to sound crazy and little fingers of fear tickled my spine. I remembered Alice's words about destiny and wondered if Jacob actually wasn't in control of his emotions. He had seemed a bit too intense earlier today and, of course, right now, but not so much yesterday, especially when he blew me off for dinner. I shivered, suddenly wondering if there actually was a supernatural explanation for everything happening, something I'd scoffed at just yesterday when I'd found the book in my room. I decided to extricate myself from the situation immediately.

"Jacob, you are frightening me, and I'm going to leave now," I told him slowly. "Don't follow me. I think you need to get some perspective on the things you are saying," I continued, collecting my bag and exiting the booth. I was stunned by the outrageous turn the evening had taken.

I exited the pub into the cold, mountain night and decided to take the short cut through the tunnel back to my wing of the hotel. I quickly crossed the street to the Spa and used my room key to gain access to the common area, turning the corner and heading down the ramp into the tiled passageway. If I thought it was creepy during the day, it was nothing compared to knowing I was alone and surrounded by darkness outside. My steps slowed, and I hesitated for a moment, pondering turning around and taking the outside route. But, I didn't want to run back into Jacob, and I told myself I was being silly, just spooked by all the weird happenings. I continued on, the artificial light casting strange shadows. My steps echoed eerily in the silence.

I saw a figure ahead of me in the tunnel as I rounded the first bend, just the dark outline of a man. He didn't seem to be moving, just standing still. I couldn't see his face or any details, so I couldn't tell if he was watching me or turned the other way. The figure leaned against the tunnel wall, and his posture seemed defeated in some way. I hesitated again, nervous about passing this person, who was obviously hiding. Then, I heard a commotion behind me. It was Jacob, running along the passage, now calling my name.

"Bella, Bella, wait, please, I'm sorry, I just need to talk to you," he babbled, getting closer and closer. I paused a beat too long, torn between avoiding him and the dark figure ahead. He arrived at my position and firmly grasped my upper arm. "I need to make you understand," he began but broke off suddenly, halting as he was shoved backwards away from me. I gasped in surprise and looked around. _He _was there with us, the stranger!

I took in everything in a split second. The young man was bringing his arms back down, after having shoved Jacob with great force. His face was livid with anger. "Don't touch her," he spat furiously at Jacob, all but ignoring me. Jacob, however, was clamoring on the tiled floor, his long limbs tangled with a stunned expression on his face. He didn't react to the command and was looking at me, not at the stranger, which seemed odd. "How did you do that?" he questioned incredulously, looking at me. Did he think_ I_ was the one who pushed him? I looked confusedly back at the young man, who was now looking at me, his face seeming a bit calmer. Jacob had regained his footing and was attempting to stand. The young man shook his head minutely at me, his green eyes intent on mine.

"Bella?" Jacob questioned just behind me, but my eyes were fixed on the stranger. The reality suddenly came crashing in on me. Jacob couldn't see our companion! He couldn't hear him either! "Jacob, just go," I said in a low, even voice, never taking my eyes off the other man. I heard Jacob's mumbled "I'm sorry," and his feet retreating back the way he had come. The young man and I continued to stare at each other with intensity, eyes locked, gaze unbroken. Finally, I spoke.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Edward," he answered. "I'm Edward Cullen."

o-o-o-o-o

I'm not sure how long we stood there in the tunnel staring at each other. A million questions were rushing through my head so, of course, I finally broke the silence with the most inane one.

"Did you put the book in my room?" I demanded. I swear his face quirked into a crooked half-smile at that, but the expression was gone in a moment. He gave a quick nod and stepped closer to me, grasping my wrist with his hand. I noticed he had long, capable-looking fingers, strong hands. He gave a gentle tug, but then said urgently, "We'll talk, but we shouldn't stay down here. This is still part of the original structure. Come with me." I had no idea what the age of the building had to do with anything, but he spoke with an air of authority, so I complied, following him further along the tunnel. We met no one.

We approached the door that led up to the garden, and I moved to exit here. If we shouldn't be in the tunnel, this was the fastest way to accomplish that. He dropped my wrist and didn't follow me. I turned back to look at him.

"I can't go that way," he said wistfully, "Please follow me." I felt his urgency again, so I didn't argue. He had promised we'd talk, so I was going to hold him to that. We swiftly maneuvered the tunnel and climbed the stairs back into the rebuilt Old Wing. He was headed for the library. I felt my wrist tingling and looked down. It looked normal, but I realized it was tingling where he had touched me. I rubbed the area self-consciously, hoping he didn't notice.

He led me into the alcove and seated himself in the chair, turning it so it would face the built-in bench. He motioned toward the cushion, indicating that I should sit facing him. Now, for some answers! He looked at me apprehensively but smiled slightly to indicate he was ready for the conversation. I took a deep breath.

"Why did you put the book in my room?" I began. There was no mistaking the crooked smirk and amusement now. He chuckled briefly, a low, attractive sound.

"Of all the things you wish to know, you want to start with that?" he said shaking his head. It was hard to take my eyes off him when he was smiling that way. If I had thought him to be handsome before, when he was scowling, he was downright breathtaking now. I realized I had been staring inappropriately when the smile faded.

"Sorry, I'm overwhelmed," I muttered, making this my excuse. I meant by his appearance and proximity as much as I meant the shock of the rescue and other mysterious happenings. "Um, were you trying to scare me?"

"No, I wasn't trying to scare you. I'm…drawn to you, feel very protective of you. I'm afraid you are in danger here. I was trying to keep you safe," he explained. My heart was beating very fast, but I wasn't sure why. I waited for him to continue. "I left the book because I wanted to see you smile again the way you did when you first saw the library and found the book. I guess it wasn't a very good idea." He said this last regretfully. We were both quiet, probably trying to figure out how to address the elephant in the room, at least I was. He seemed content to sit quietly with me, so I forged ahead.

"How can you be Edward Cullen when there already is an Edward Cullen, who has no living relatives?" I finally blurted. His brilliant green eyes narrowed and his lips pressed into a grim line.

"_I_ am Edward Cullen. _That_ man is most certainly not Edward Cullen." He said this forcefully and angrily. I was confused and thought maybe my earlier fright had muddled my thoughts.

"How is that possible? You're young, and he's old. He's the one who hired me; I spoke to him on the phone when I lived in New York." I put my hand to my forehead, closing my eyes. Edward reached for my hand and brought it into his lap. He had scooted his chair closer to the bench, and our knees were nearly touching. He stared down at my fingers in concentration. His grasp was warm and comforting. I started to feel light-headed at his closeness. He continued to gaze at my hand clasped in his but did not answer my questions. So, I asked another one.

"Why couldn't Jacob see you?" I said softly, trying to catch his eye, but he looked away. I waited, and he squeezed my hand and finally met my gaze.

"You're the only one who can see me," he stated evenly, looking me right in the eye. He must have feared this information would prove too much because he reacted quickly when I dropped his hand and flopped my head back, flat onto the cushion. I brought my knees up so that I would fit into the space in a supine position. I stared up at the ceiling above me, not looking at him. His chair squeaked as it rolled backward. He had moved swiftly into a kneeling position next to my head.

He touched my face tenderly, stroking my cheek, but said nothing. I guess he was waiting to see what I would do next. I was also curious about that. I didn't look at him, but I could feel his breath against my cheek as well. It smelled sweet, like fresh flowers and herbs. I had been obsessing over this beautiful man for over 24 hours. He rescued me like a knight in shining armor, his touch made me tingly, and he had all but admitted he had romantic feelings for me. But, and it was a very big but, he had also just admitted…what? That he was a ghost?

"But, you touched Jacob, I saw that," I insisted. He sighed deeply and continued to stroke my cheek. I persisted with my ceiling vigil.

"I have learned to control and focus my energy, so I can deliver a brief contact," he confirmed quietly, "but nothing like this." He demonstrated what he meant by stroking my cheek again and reaching for my hands, which were clasped over my chest.

"Bella," he said, and I finally turned my head to look at him again. His eyes were intense, almost frightening. My heart was pounding in my chest; the way he said my name thrilled me too much.

"I think you should leave this place. I've been trying to follow you, keep an eye on you since you arrived, but I'm convinced _they_ have some purpose for bringing you here. I tried not to get involved with you; it's just not safe, especially when I realized you could see me. But, tonight, when that dog tried to touch you, I couldn't help myself." He hung his head in shame.

"Edward, I can't leave. It would ruin my career. I think I can handle a couple in their eighties, and if Jacob comes near me again, I will put a restraining order on his ass," I scoffed. He shook his head, watching me worriedly, opening his mouth for rebuttal, but my face cracked into a huge yawn at that moment.

"You're exhausted," he breathed, caressing my hand, his face close to mine. "Get some sleep, you haven't been resting. We'll talk again, and I will protect you." His voice tapered off into a whisper. I tried to protest, to sit up again, but I was hit with a wave of exhaustion that pulled me under. The last thing I saw was his beautiful face before I faded into unconsciousness.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Silly Bella! How could she fall asleep at a time like that! Some answers but still more questions…

I wanted to mention RebAdams7 and robsjenn who both knew who the youngest Naval aviator was: George H.W. Bush was winged on 9 June 1943, several days before his 19th birthday.

Again, thanks to everyone who reviewed!


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks again for all the lovely reviews. I updated my outline and think this will be about 17 chapters. Probably one or two per week until I'm done.

Chapter 8

I was relaxed and happy, the wisps of a blissful dream gradually releasing me from sleep. I smiled before opening my eyes and rolled over. I met with a hard wooden barrier, instead of the smooth sheets of my king-sized bed. Then, I realized I actually wasn't relaxed. In fact, I was crammed into a tiny space in the fetal position. I opened my eyes, sat up, and the night before came rushing back: Jacob's erratic behavior, the rescue in the tunnel, and _him_. The grin was back as I remembered his fingers tracing my cheek, his eyes intent on my own. Then, reality returned full force. I was alone in the alcove. Did I dream it? No, I thought, I'm not that creative.

I swung my legs around, so I was sitting and peered around the curtain into the library. Early morning sun was streaming into the charming room; I wasn't late. There was still time to return to my room, change my clothes, and make it to the kitchen without attracting attention. If I was, in fact, somehow involved with a ghostly protector, then why hadn't he insisted I return to my room and sleep on the 600 count sheets, I wondered grumpily. Where was he now, anyway? I rehashed the conversation last night and realized I was still sorely lacking in the answers department. I would tackle that tonight and wouldn't take no for an answer this time. But, when I thought back to his face and the way I felt in his presence, I was a distracted mess again.

Thirty minutes later, I was showered, dressed, and in the kitchen with no one the wiser. Actually, this was unfortunate for me because Rosalie was giving me the cold shoulder, no doubt for going through with my dinner with Jacob. Finally, after one pointed sniff too many, I approached her as she fiercely focused on a bowl of enormous blackberries, bent over one of the stainless steel prep tables.

"Rosalie," I began, hoping to get her attention, and maybe a little eye contact, so I could dish the edited version of the evening, i. mention of Edward. I wasn't sure why I felt like I needed to keep that to myself. Probably so she didn't think I was a lunatic and report me to my boss. I definitely wanted to keep flying under the radar with him now, at least until I figured out what was going on.

"Yes, Chef," she said in her prissiest voice, refusing to look at me. Oh, wow, I was off to a great start here, my staff was really responding to my leadership, I thought sarcastically.

"Cut the crap, Rose, I need to tell you what happened last night. Things did not go well, and Jacob really ended up frightening me," I ground out. Her demeanor changed immediately.

"Oh, gosh, Bella, I'm so sorry. I'm being such a bitch, an unprofessional bitch, too!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe I just treated my boss that way," she berated herself. "Please, I'm sorry. I swear I just tend to over-react sometimes," she babbled on. I motioned with my hand for her to stop.

"Listen, I just went last night so Jacob wouldn't talk more trash about Alice, if he thought I canceled because of her. Give me the benefit of a doubt, and, hell, yes, it is unprofessional to refuse to speak to your superior! But, it's okay. We'll get to know each other better," I finished with a smile, smoothing out the worried expression that was building on her face with my speech.

I proceeded to give her the details of the evening, including Jacob's strange, clingy behavior and the scuffle in the tunnel. However, I told her it was me that did the shoving that knocked him down. That's what he thought happened anyway. She was shocked and agreed that I should stay far away from him. Ben caught the tail end of the conversation, and Rosalie told him Jacob was bothering me. He raised his eyebrows, aware of Jacob's reputation with the female employees, but agreed to keep an eye out for him.

Friends again, I went to my desk to work on orders and shipments for Saturday, while Rosalie returned to the blackberries. Mid-morning, Mike, the resort florist, entered the kitchen with an enormous arrangement of fake branches with attached silk flowers in a glass vase. He looked sheepish.

"What is this?" I asked with dread, staring at the hideous bouquet, if it could even be called that.

"Um…it's the state flower of Virginia," he said. This time he was the one making statements sound like questions. "Virginia has the same state flower and state tree, the dogwood," he clarified. "My client thought this would be a meaningful symbol…" he trailed off, not evening attempting to dignify the explanation. He put the vase on the edge of my desk and handed me a card. I almost hoped it would be from Edward, but I didn't think ghosts could send flowers. Plus, I didn't want Edward to have such bad taste. That only left one possibility.

Dearest Bella,

I'm so sorry about last night. I would write it a thousand times if I could. I don't know what came over me. I don't usually chase girls, but there is something special between us. If you would just let me explain in person, I'm sure I can make you see it, too. I hope you enjoy the flowers.

Love, Jacob Black

Oh boy, he was not getting it. This was going to make my life so much harder than it already was! Just then, I heard scuffling at the main kitchen entrance. Mike glanced curiously in that direction as well.

"I guess that's my client," he said, looking back at me apologetically. "I think that's my cue to get back to work. Esme is expecting me." He left the kitchen quickly through the swinging dining room door. I was momentarily distracted by the thought they might be working on the flowers for Saturday night, but when shouts broke out from the scuffle, I returned to more immediate matters.

"Man, you have to _go_!" I heard Ben saying. "She doesn't want to see you right now. I'll call security if I have to. Seth, what happened? Couldn't you keep him out of trouble?" I saw Seth, the clerk from the pro-shop at the door, ineffectively trying to tug Jacob away. Ben had his hands on his hips, feet spread apart, blocking the way.

"Beeeellllllaaaa! Beeelllllllaaa!" I heard him calling, shaking my head as Tennessee Williams popped into my mind. I cowered at my corner desk, until a few moments later, Jacob slumped and allowed Seth to lead him away. I guess the threat of security got through to him. Rosalie was staring at me in shock.

"You weren't kidding," she marveled. "No offense, but that's the most bizarre thing I've seen. You're hot but not that hot. Didn't he blow you off for dinner just 2 days ago?" I huffed because I had not told her that; she was too blunt for her own good.

"Remember that talk about professional behavior we just had?" I joked with her. She laughed and turned to face my distracted employees.

"OK, folks, show is over. Get back to work!" she called out. But, having her say it out loud, confirmed my apprehension. This was not normal behavior. And that, added to everything else that was going on, was not good news for me. I decided to take action now, instead of waiting for Edward tonight. There had to be someone else around here with answers. I checked to make sure everyone was busy and went back to my desk. I picked up the phone and dialed an internal number.

-o-o-o-o-

"I was waiting for your call," Alice answered without preamble. "Something has happened." She made this a statement, not a question.

"Yes," I confirmed, "but before I tell you about it, I want to know if you knew about Edward." My declaration was met with silence.

"Edward?" she asked cautiously, "Do you mean Mr. Cullen?"

"No, I do not mean Mr. Cullen." I said firmly, glancing around the corner into the kitchen to make sure I was still unnoticed.

"Okay, Bella," Alice sighed, "I don't know who you mean by 'Edward,' but there is something about Mr. Cullen that is not quite right. Now, I know you're going to ask me what I'm suggesting, but I can't really tell you more than that. I don't have details, like I told you before." She was quiet on the line. "I just get vague flashes of him and two other young men, one blonde and the other sort of red-headed." I gave a little gasp when she mentioned the red-head. That had to be Edward.

"What?" she quickly questioned after my interruption. "Does that ring a bell with you?" She paused, but didn't let me answer. "I think the two young men are spirits, and I think they're both here. I thought I saw the blond-haired man in the hot springs courtyard the day you arrived." The hot springs courtyard was a walled garden that was just adjacent to the spa building on the garden side, closest to the other resort buildings. The original soaking pools had been bricked in at some time in the late 1800s and now could be found in this garden. They were haphazardly spread about and were interspersed with planters filled with flowers, plants, and herbs. They were actually deep wells, covered with steel mesh to keep tourists from falling in, although you could still get an impromptu steam facial if you leaned far enough over. I didn't like that courtyard; the mesh-covered wells were a jarring note among the flowers. Alice continued talking over my musings.

"I wasn't sure if it was a vision, or if I was seeing an actual corporeal spirit," she was saying, "but I got the chills. He was looking at me murderously," she finished.

"You're talking about the blonde-haired spirit, right?" I queried. I could not believe I was having a serious, calm conversation about this stuff! "You've never seen the red-haired man, just had visions of him?" She confirmed this was the case. I decided not to tell her about Edward, again not sure why I wanted to keep that to myself. I guess I wanted to talk to him again, ask him what he could tell me about Alice's information. So, I just told her about Jacob and our strange evening and even stranger morning. We had a good laugh about the dogwood delivery.

"Alice, I have a lot more questions about this, about the hot springs and magic…I guess." I trailed off, almost choking on that sentence.

"I've made you a believer in the occult, have I?" Alice asked very seriously. "There's more you aren't telling me."

"Maybe. Can we meet for breakfast? I'd rather discuss this alone." Depending on what Edward said tonight, I might tell her everything.

"Not in front of Rosalie, you mean?" I could hear the smile in her voice. I agreed that would not be ideal, and we made plans to meet at the resort coffee shop before work.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

That evening I returned to my room, changed into my snooping uniform and waited until after midnight. I tried to continue reading Gone with the Wind, but I was too distracted to get very far. Finally, it felt late enough to search for Edward, so I crept into the dim hallway and made my way along the now familiar route to the library. It looked just as it had the night I first saw it. I could tell he wasn't here. I lifted the curtain to the alcove and entered. I sat in the wooden chair and spun around a few times, just waiting. Still nothing.

"Edward?" I tried calling softly. No answer. Even though I felt ridiculous, I continued, "I really need to talk to you. I need to know who you are, what this all means." Silence surrounded me. I attempted another angle, "Do you know Alice? From the spa? She has visions…she told me some things. I want to ask you about it," I trailed off, starting to get annoyed.

"Edward!" I said this at normal volume, waiting some more. Still no answer. Well, I had already decided that I wouldn't take no for answer tonight. I had seen him before in the tunnel, so I would search for him there. I couldn't shake the suspicion that he was purposely avoiding me. He had promised to watch over me, which meant he could see me now and had resolved not to answer. I felt a tiny sting of rejection.

I pushed back the chair and ducked under the curtain out to the main library. I headed out into the hallway and peaked inside the darkened President's Lounge. It was kind of creepy in the dim light, I had to admit. Alice had suggested there might be another spirit, and that thought gave me shivers. I had to find Edward and get some answers. I knew the Lounge had only closed an hour ago, and that there were people back in the kitchen cleaning right now. I felt a little safer.

I began to have second thoughts as I started down the narrow stairs that led to the tunnel. I chilly wind suddenly swirled around me, sending a shiver up my spine. I entered the tunnel and turned in the direction that would lead to the spa. Suddenly, Edward was there, blocking my way.

I smiled at him, delighted to finally see him again, but it faded as I took in his expression. Something was wrong. "I've been looking for you," I began, but stopped speaking as I took in his livid expression.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded. "Did I not make myself clear? You've refused to take my advice and leave this place, which is bad enough, and you're still skulking around down here after what happened last night? What's the matter with you?" he asked me incredulously.

The words stung. Where was the gentle man from last night, stroking my face, gazing at me with wonder? I answered with some indignation, saying again, "I was looking for you. You left a lot of questions unanswered last night, and I need to know more. I think I'm entitled to it." He had begun pacing in front of me, his fingers pinched over the bridge of his nose, eye closed.

"Can we talk about this in the library?" he asked. "We can't stay down here. It's not safe," he emphasized this last bit. I nodded slowly, acquiescing, and he roughly grabbed my upper arm and dragged me back up the staircase. Once back on the main floor, he dropped my arm like it was burning him. We went straight back to the alcove and resumed our seats from the night before.

"What's wrong with the tunnel?" I asked. This seemed as good a segue as any into the discussion I planned on having. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed resignedly.

"The older parts of the hotel, from before it burned, hold more power," he said, as if that answered my question. I decided to call him on it.

"That doesn't answer my question. Why does that matter to me if those areas hold more power? I assume you're also referring to the spa building and the old springs?" I was proud of the firm tone with which I delivered this retort.

"Especially the old springs," he enunciated. "Don't go near those. Now, why don't you go to bed?" He moved to stand as if our conversation was over. Now I was past annoyed and on to pissed off.

"Hold on," I demanded. "You have not answered a single question. Alice told me there might be another spirit. Is that who I'm avoiding in the tunnel? If you want me to be safe, I need to understand." He sighed again and slouched back in the chair.

"Yes, there's another entity," he admitted, running his hands through his hair. What gorgeous hair. I reminded myself to focus again with that errant thought. He continued, "but the less you know, the safer you are." I huffed at that, but he looked resolute.

"I should apologize for last night," he dropped his eyes at this. "I was overly fascinated by you because you can see me, and I could touch you, but I think I may have led you on. I don't want anything bad to happen to you, but we shouldn't interact." I started to interrupt, but he held up his hand, like he was stopping traffic. "We're from different worlds, and I'm not a good friend for you to have. You won't see me again." I stared at him in horror.

"No, Edward, if you'll help me understand, I know I can help…" I protested, but he was gone. The curtain to the library was left gently waving. I sat still for a few minutes, trying to hold back the threatening tears. I felt bereft and wondered at the strength of the feeling.

I dragged myself dejectedly back to my room, trying to think positively about my morning meeting with Alice. I fell into a fitful sleep, dark figures swirling in my dreams.

-0-0-0-0-0-

I was awakened by the shrill ring of the telephone in my room. That was odd. Charlie wouldn't have that number, and I really hadn't left behind any close friends in New York. Besides, they would call my cell phone, too. I groaned and looked at the clock. I was getting seriously sleep-deprived. The clock's fluorescent numbers glared back at me: 4:30 AM. I grabbed the receiver and spoke sleepily.

"Hello," I'm sure I sounded quite groggy. All I heard was sobbing on the other end. "Who is this?" I demanded, cold fear settling in my stomach. The sobbing suddenly sounded more distant.

"Bella?" a male voice I didn't recognize questioned. "This is Emmett, Rosalie's husband. We haven't met, but Rose is really too upset to talk on the phone right now. There's been an accident. It's Alice…"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Some of my favorite authors apologize when they leave a cliffie, but I won't do it since I actually love the anticipation I get when I read one! Don't worry less than a week until the next chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

A little something different this time. Don't worry, the cliff-hanger is still resolved…

Thanks again for everyone who is taking the time to review. I went from 6 reviews after Chapter 6 to over 100 after Chapter 8. I owe this to SR who got out the word, but you lovely readers are the ones giving me the props. I'm trying to answer all reviews, so be patient with me.

You should know that there have even been a few minor tweaks to the story here and there, due to some comments by the reviewers. So, please realize that I take reviews seriously, and they are worth your time!

**Chapter 9**

_Interlude_

James was awake when the call came from his head of security, despite the early hour. In fact, he rarely slept these days, preferring to wander the hotel, gaining strength from its areas of power. He needed this more and more as his body aged, he realized. He was not surprised to hear that some mischief had befallen the spa manager, although he was annoyed to learn of it. Alice was a capable manager, and her staff would not function well without her leadership. He moved through the quiet hallways of his elegant, yet understated home just yards from the main hotel. Victoria was nowhere to be found. Again, he was not surprised to find her missing, but he was annoyed by it.

He dressed and groomed for the day, impeccably as usual, and made his way to the spa just in time for opening. Jessica Stanley was going through the opening routine behind the reception desk in the foyer. He was not looking forward to giving her this news because he found her to be a very silly person. But what would be his other choice? The spa was a major money-maker and tourist draw; he had to put someone in charge.

As James explained to Jessica that Alice had had an accident and that he must put her temporarily in charge, he was running through scenarios in his mind. He needed details on what had happened last night in the hot springs courtyard. He was more certain by the minute that he knew who could provide him with those details, and it wasn't Alice. As Jessica's lip trembled, he reassured her that Alice would be fine and back at work in no time, solely in an effort to keep Jessica's tears at bay. He did this because he hated women's tears, not because it pained him to see a woman in distress, but because displays of emotion aggravated him. He did not believe his words to Jessica because he was sure that there was no way Alice could return to work at The Homestead, whether she was fine or not. How he could ensure this, he was not yet certain. When the distasteful task of placing Jessica in charge was complete, and he had removed her clammy hands from the lapels of his jacket, he headed into the tunnel bound for his office, his mood lifting considerably as he entered.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Victoria was curled up in one of the wingbacks by the fire in James' office. The door slammed angrily, and she jumped. She leaned forward to try and catch his expression; it was fixed in a scowl. He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his foot against the thick carpet. He looked at her accusingly. No good news, then, she realized.

"So?" she asked. He crossed the room and slumped into the matching chair across from her.

"Vic, you've gone too far this time," he warned. She looked at him, eyebrow raised, waiting for more. He noticed that she did not look apologetic in the slightest. But he hadn't really expected that. It wasn't in her nature, and, in truth, he relied on this trait. She always knew what to do, ruthless was a wonderful adjective for her. Well, I'd like to see how she'll handle this, James thought. He couldn't see any way to spin it in a positive light.

"She's in the hospital in Roanoke with a compound femur fracture and a concussion, no permanent damage. She's awake, and she'll be fine," he delivered the dismal news. "When she didn't come home last night, her fiancé came looking for her. Found her in the hot springs courtyard. Luckily, it looked like a simple accident, a fall." Victoria let her head fall back against the chair, looking up at the ceiling before closing her eyes in frustration.

"Vic, how could you do this?" James demanded. "You could have at least made sure she was dead." Victoria lowered her chin and glared at him.

"You're the idiot who hired her in the first place," she accused. James stared at her incredulously.

"You agreed with me, said you wanted to study her, when you realized she was attracted the power of the springs. What happened to keep you friends close but your enemies closer? I thought you said she might be of use to us?" James countered.

"You should have been able to sense she had second sight!" Victoria spat back at him. "And then you let her see you in the courtyard the other night! You forced my hand! We had to get rid of her after that. She was bound to figure things about pretty quickly. I've told you it's not safe for you appear that way, no matter what time of day." She was really getting herself worked up now. James interrupted her before she could say more.

"Well, it didn't work, did it, Vic? She's fine. She could tell anyone now. My spa manager just had a serious accident, and my golf pro is acting erratically, scaring my new chef. This is drawing too much attention. Not to mention, it could hurt the hotel," he finished his lecture with the argument closest to his heart. He was the best thing ever to happen to this hotel, and he couldn't bear to think of it suffering. Victoria narrowed her eyes and stood over him. She could actually be very intimidating when she wanted to be, he had to admit. She began to pace in front of the fireplace.

"Your precious hotel," she cried bitterly. "Heaven forbid, the hotel is hurt in any of this!" She stopped pacing and placed her hands on her hips. "You nearly destroyed this hotel with your idiotic intrigues, and if it weren't for me, you'd still be bitter and alone. I have dedicated my life to helping you. I've done everything for you!"

"Here we go again," James retorted, shaking his head. "Poor little Victoria, Saint Victoria, so dedicated to her husband, Edward," he taunted sarcastically. "There's nothing in this for you, is there?" Victoria returned to her seat, not as steady in her stilettos as she was as a younger woman. She continued to glare hatefully at him.

"Everything I've done, I've done for us, for our future," she said, still steely. "You should do what you always do, leave everything to me. Just manage your prized hotel, and Victoria will take care of everything." She said this last bit in a faux baby talk, her lips pursed into a pout. James snorted in exasperation.

"OK, next topic, Vic," James switched to another bone of contention. "Your 'spell' on Jacob seems to have backfired. He made a fool of himself in the kitchen yesterday morning. They almost had to call security to keep him away from Bella." Victoria looked slightly chagrinned. James briefly enjoyed seeing that look on her face, but quickly remembered, he really needed her plan to work.

"Yes, he has responded to the elixir a bit more vigorously than I expected," she replied primly. "I don't think it will matter though. I think our plan would have worked even without his interest in Bella. I was just covering my bases." She finished thoughtfully, and James believed that she was sincere.

"So, I shouldn't worry about Black?" he asked her seriously. She shook her head and looked as contrite as possible, for her. "I just worry it's too much attention for the hotel. This restaurant opening has to go well." She let out a frustrated groan.

"The hotel again!" she shouted. "You're a broken record. Wait…" she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. He nervously watched her, hoping she wasn't putting the pieces together. He needed to be more careful. "You do intend to leave The Homestead once this is over, right?" She asked. He remained quiet, so she shouted her question again, "Right?"

"Of course," he said placating her. "I've skimmed enough over the last several years that we'll be able to travel for awhile before we settle down, start a new life." He said this soothingly, lying through his teeth. He'd dedicated his life to The Homestead and would never leave, not unless he was cold and dead in the ground. But, Victoria didn't need to know that. He thought he should end the conversation now, quit while he was ahead, but he did have one last reservation to discuss.

"I'm concerned that Bella suspects something. She definitely holding something back," he told Victoria. "She had that strange outburst on her first day here, and she stares at me as if she mistrusts me. Victoria shook her head, confident that his worry was baseless.

"You're being paranoid. She doesn't have second sight. We both would have realized that already. There's no way she knows anything that could help her," Victoria was very sure of this. "We're safe from her, especially now with Alice out of the way. We need to come up with a plan to keep Ms. Brandon from coming back to work."

"Oh, _we_ do, do _we_?" James taunted. "I guess I'll have to bail you out after your spectacular failure there." Victoria rolled her eyes.

"We're in this together, dear husband," she said sweetly. James shook his head but was deep in thought.

"The accident needs to be blamed on her, so I can fire her," he mulled, going over possibilities in his mind. "I need to discredit her, so no one would believe anything she said."

"Why don't we go with the truth?" Victoria suggested. James raised his eyebrows at her.

"What? That an 83 year old woman hit her in the back of the head with a golf club in an attempt to drown her in one of the hot springs?" James asked sarcastically. Victoria couldn't help but smile a little bit at that. A small grin appeared on James' face, too.

"No, silly," Victoria answered, almost with a giggle, "We say that she was trying to open the safety grate, that she is a new age nut, who wanted to worship the hot springs. People will think she's one of those crazy wiccans. It will be her word against ours, and you are the respected war hero, Edward Cullen." She made an ironic motion with her hands, mimicking a game show girl revealing the big prize. They were both smiling widely now.

"I like it!" James pronounced. "I'll notify her fiancé and talk to Security. She probably doesn't want to come back here anyway. Plus, she might suspect us, but she wouldn't be able to identify the man she saw in the courtyard. If she talked about him, she would wind up in a mental institution, surely she realizes that." He did frown at the idea of having to find another capable spa manager, but he was smart enough not to bring this up in front of Victoria, given their apparent truce.

"See," Victoria appeased, "the situation isn't as dire as you made it out to be. I've got this under control." She lowered her chin to look directly into his brilliant green eyes, smiling encouragingly. They flashed blue for just a moment. If she hadn't been looking for it, she might have missed it. James regarded her seriously.

"_He_'s still here, you know," he said quietly, somberly. "I still see him sometimes, although less with every passing year." Victoria scoffed.

"What can _he_ do?" she sneered. "He's about as big of a threat as Alice is from her hospital room in Roanoke. And before you ask, I'll spell it out for you, that means no threat!" she shouted insultingly.

James nodded. Even though he intended to double-cross Victoria, he did love her and hoped she would stay with him. He valued her opinion over all others. If she didn't think _he_ would be a problem, then James would believe her. Their fight was over. Victoria rose from her chair and patted his wrinkled cheek with her wrinkled hand. They had been together for over 50 years, the picture of a devoted couple. This plan was the culmination of all that. He had worries, sure, but didn't really see how they could possible fail.

_End of Interlude_

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I hope you enjoyed this little bit of third person perspective…


	10. Chapter 10

This is on the long side… for me, anyway…we're back to our lovely protagonist's POV.

Chapter 10

_"Bella?" a male voice I didn't recognize questioned. "This is Emmett, Rosalie's husband. We haven't met, but Rose is really too upset to talk on the phone right now. There's been an accident. It's Alice…"_

My heart was in my throat, my head still spinning from the abrupt wake up. "What kind of accident?" I asked with dread. I realized I was holding my breath for the answer.

"It looks like she's gonna be all right," he reassured. "She didn't come home from work. Around midnight or so, Jasper started to get worried. He called here, thinking Rose and Alice were having a girl's night, but we hadn't seen her all day. So, he started looking for her. He finally found her unconscious in the hot springs courtyard and called security. There's no 911 service up here in the boonies." Emmett kept talking but I zoned out and stopped listening. She had been in the hot springs courtyard, the same place she had seen the blonde-haired spirit and the same place Edward had specifically warned me to avoid.

"…thought you might want to come along." Emmett was saying. I forced myself to pay attention.

"What was that, Emmett? I'm sorry I'm just a little shaken," I said sheepishly. I could hear Rose taking gulping breaths in the background, trying to calm herself.

"I said that Alice is awake with a concussion and broken leg. She had to have surgery but didn't need to be admitted to ICU. They are going to watch her for a day or two at the hospital in Roanoke. Jasper said she was already dying for visitors, so we thought we'd head on over there today. I think Rosalie wants to see for herself that she's really all right," he finished with a slightly teasing tone. I could see how his personality could be good for Rosalie's volatile moods. I could no longer hear her sobs. "Anyway, apparently, Alice asked if we would bring you with us. Do you want to come? I know it's pretty early, but we're going try and head out by 6."

I quickly agreed to the impromptu trip and reassured Rosalie, who was now able to come to the phone, that I would make sure Ben could cover for both of us. I hopped out of bed and went about my morning routine, fatigue forgotten. This accident of Alice's was too much of a coincidence. I was worried the strange situation was coming to a head. I wanted to understand it before it overtook me. However, I was able to admit to myself that my biggest worry was continuing on without seeing Edward.

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The drive to Roanoke through the dawning early morning was actually quite beautiful. The road snaked through rocky valleys following a roaring river, twisting and turning its way out of the higher elevation mountains. We only reached a four-lane highway for the last 30 minutes of our journey. Roanoke is a lovely railroad town, surrounded on all sides by green mountains, the tallest crowned with a large, wooden star. Emmett, ever the tour guide/realtor, explained that this star lit up at night, giving Roanoke its title as "The Star City."

By time we arrived at Carilion Roanoke Memorial Hospital, in the shadow of the star, Emmett and I were fast friends. He was handsome and jovial, and I was convinced he made a killing in the realty business. Rose was quiet and wan as we pulled away from the hotel, but her spirits improved as we drove, Emmett's good cheer infectious. Once we were out of the worst of the hills and rural roadways, she was able to get a cell signal and speak to Jasper again. He assured her that Alice was fine, just chomping at the bit for visitors and sympathy. Rosalie hung up and rolled her eyes.

"Drama queen," she muttered with the hint of a smile playing on her lips. Rosalie talked a good game, but I could see that she was a fiercely loyal friend. I hoped that she and I were on the road to a similar friendship.

I was glad to be included in the trip, but I felt I was the only one in the car who suspected a more sinister side to this accident. I was sure there was a reason that Alice had specifically requested my presence. She would play her role as the flighty, clumsy victim, but she also had a message for me. I hoped she wouldn't be in the hospital very long, and that she would be back at the hotel as quickly as possible to help me untangle the developing web.

A grim, overweight woman was seated behind the information desk in the main lobby of the medical center. Her name tag identified her as Mrs. Cope. She informed us that visiting hours would not start for another 2 hours, after the patients had been served breakfast and the doctors had completed morning rounds. Emmett leaned on the desk, dimples in full effect. We were on our way to Alice's room in less than two minutes. Once we were out of Mrs. Cope's line of sight, Rosalie smacked Emmett on the back of the head. He smirked at her.

"You know you love me, baby," he gloated teasingly. Rosalie tried to look disapproving, but her face cracked into a wide grin.

"I guess you are useful to have around," she admitted. We climbed into an elevator, the three of us crammed into one corner, along with a large metal cart, tended by a woman with a hairnet and hospital scrubs. Rosalie and I looked at each with twin grimaces. There's no mistaking the odor of hospital eggs and canned peaches.

We arrived at Alice's room, and I noticed with great relief that the bed closest to the door was empty. Alice was sans roommate. The curtain around the bed closest to the window had been pulled around for privacy, but I could see the back of a blonde man seated in one of the hospital chairs just beyond the edge of the curtain. He turned his head as the three of us entered the room. He leaned forward and murmured something to the occupant of the bed and rose from the chair. I assumed this was Jasper and was soon proven right as he clasped hands with Emmett.

"Thanks for coming so fast, man." Jasper said to Emmett. "Alice started asking for Rosalie and Bella almost as soon as she was in the ambulance." He turned to me. I took in his distressed jeans and cowboy boots. His hair was honey blond and artfully tousled.

"You must be Bella," he said with a southern twang. His accent was stronger than others I'd encountered so far in Virginia, and I remembered Alice saying he was from Texas and that they had met in Mississippi. I nodded and stuck out my hand to shake his.

"It's nice to meet you," I said. "I wish it were under better circumstances." He smiled and gave me a firm handshake just as a team of doctors entered the room. Jasper smiled at them and stuck his head behind the curtain.

"Hon, we'll be just on the other side of the curtain, all right? The doctors are here." Jasper motioned them over to the curtain, and they trooped by us. The oldest one, a middle-aged woman with graying hair, greeted Jasper, calling him Dr. Whitlock. Rosalie was in no mood to waste further time.

"Jasper, what happened to her?" she demanded. Jasper sighed, rubbing his temples.

"She says she doesn't remember. She told me that sometimes, when the spa is closed, she sits by the old springs to think," Rosalie scoffed at this, and Emmett placed a warning hand on her shoulder. Jasper didn't look offended, though.

"Rosalie, you know I agree with you for the most part about the supernatural, but my training as a psychologist has taught me not to ignore the mental journeys and experiences of others. Alice's methods of meditation may not be main stream, but I respect however she chooses to ground herself," Jasper chided gently. "Anyway, she says she must have tripped and hit her head. The grating to one of the springs was moved back. She was caught on the edge. She almost fell." His mouth trembled slightly with the last sentence, and I could see how much he loved her. I wondered about the fight that had led to their temporary break up so many months ago.

"Did she open the grate?" I asked incredulously. That just didn't sound like something Alice would do. Jasper's head snapped around, and he looked at me curiously. At that moment, I realized that he was holding back. I wondered if his protective nature would keep me from hearing Alice's version.

"She doesn't remember," he said repeating what he had already reported, giving nothing further. At that moment, the doctors began filing back out of the room, nodding at Jasper as they left. Alice's soprano trilled from behind the curtain.

"Jasper, bring my visitors over here! I've been through so much, now I need to be adored." Jasper grinned at us.

"Now do you believe she's okay?" he asked Rosalie, who was shaking her head and laughing. We moved around the curtain. Alice was propped up on the bed with several metal circles around her left thigh. Although the whole thing was wrapped in gauze, I could see that pins disappeared from these circular braces into her skin. Her foot was attached to what I assumed was a traction apparatus. Alice's face fell at the sight of us.

"What? No presents?" she demanded with a pout. Emmett laughed and patted her good foot.

"We got here so fast, that the gift shop wasn't open yet! You can't have it all, Kid," he defended us. Alice broke out in a genuine smile. I was impressed with her attitude given all that had befallen her in the last several hours. I would probably have been asleep or at least avoiding company. I remained convinced she had something to reveal.

"No," she agreed, "but you know what I would love to have?" She gestured at her breakfast tray, untouched and shoved away on one of those rolling tables. Sure enough, soggy scrambled eggs and canned peaches filled it. Alice continued, "There is a fabulous bakery, not two blocks from here, where I always go to when I'm shopping in Roanoke. Would anyone want to get me a proper breakfast? Maybe someone who knows a little bit about pastry?" Alice wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Rosalie. Rosalie laughed and quickly agreed to whatever Alice's heart desired. She and Emmett looked at me expectantly, but I motioned to them to go without me. Maybe I could get a word alone with Alice while they were gone.

"I'm not hungry," I lied. Jasper watched me appraisingly, as I waved good-bye to the couple. We looked at each other in awkward silence for a few minutes, listening to their footsteps echoing down the tiled hallway. Finally, I couldn't wait any longer. I turned to Jasper.

"Um…could I have a moment alone with Alice?" I asked hesitantly. He shook his head decisively.

"Not a chance. I won't leave her alone ever again," He said as they gazed at each other lovingly. "But you're free to talk in front of me. I think Alice has a few things to tell you." Alice nodded seriously.

"Bella, I think you are in real danger, if you stay at The Homestead," she began. I started to interrupt, but she held up her hand. "I already know that you'll refuse to go, but I want you to have all the facts, since I won't be able help you anymore." I stared at her incredulously.

"What do you mean?" I asked, fear gripping my heart. She smiled sadly and shook her head.

"I've been fired," she stated matter-of-factly. I gasped in surprise.

"What? How?" I sputtered incoherently. Jasper nodded in confirmation.

"Yes, Mr. Cullen called this morning while Alice was still in surgery. They believe she endangered herself and others in a reckless attempt to exploit the properties of the hot springs. He said they just can't keep someone on who behaves in such an irresponsible manner." Jasper spoke sarcastically, an angry expression clouding his handsome features. Alice patted his hand.

"Did you open the safety grate?" I asked, already knowing the answer. Alice narrowed her eyes.

"No, I didn't. I know that for sure. I don't remember clearly what happened, but I was hit in the back of the head while standing in the courtyard, and things get really fuzzy after that. I'm almost positive it was Victoria who attacked me; I just don't know why," she mused. "Yesterday evening, as I was shutting down the spa spaces, I had a vision of a red-haired woman in the hot springs courtyard. I didn't know what it meant, but I knew it couldn't be good," she paused and looked at me pleadingly. "Since, I've arrived at The Homestead, I've tried to protect the springs. I could feel evil present and knew it would try and use the spring's power. I've done everything I could to keep it at bay."

"So, I went out to the courtyard to check it out, which was a mistake. I guess I misunderstood the vision," she sighed. "Anyway, now I know that whatever is going on, Victoria is part of it, which means that Mr. Cullen is also involved, just as I suspected. I don't know what they are up to, but clearly, they want me out of the way, so they can use the hot springs."

"So, you're not coming back?" I asked pitifully. Jasper sat up ramrod straight.

"No, she's not," he stated firmly, "and you shouldn't either." He looked at me significantly.

"I have to go back," I began anxiously. "With all the publicity, my career will be over if the restaurant opening doesn't happen." Jasper nodded and didn't argue further. I guess he believed Alice when she said this would be my response.

"Alice, what about the two spirits?" I questioned. She looked concerned.

"I really don't know more than what I told you on the phone," she admitted, "but I think the blonde one is dangerous. Like I said, he seemed almost corporeal. That would mean that he is very powerful, probably feeding off the springs' energy. It's hard to know if and how he fits in with the Cullens when we don't know what he wants." I was quiet for several moments. Jasper was casting me furtive glances, and I could tell he wanted to tell me to let Alice rest.

"Alice?" I finally inquired. "What does this have to do with me?" I choked on the question, but it was what I really needed to know. She raised her eyebrows at me knowingly.

"You tell me, Bella," she challenged with a knowing look. She and Jasper both stared at me, waiting somewhat impatiently for my answer. It was no use; I was going to have to tell them everything. Alice already knew something, that much was apparent.

"Okay, well, hmm…" I babbled. Alice remained resolute, just a slight shake of her head telling me to get myself together and spill. I took a deep breath and chewed my lower lip for a moment.

"You mentioned a vision of a red-haired man," I began. Alice nodded encouragingly. "Well, I've seen him," I blew out this admission in a puff of air. Alice started bouncing excitedly in bed but ceased abruptly with a grimace of pain, obviously having forgotten about her injured leg. Jasper patted her shoulder, smiling at her fondly. I used the interruption to keep up my momentum.

"That's not all. I've talked to him, touched his hand. He rescued me from Jacob in the tunnel," I finally admitted. I waited for the eruption, but Alice was gaping at me in shock, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Alice almost shrieked. We heard a nurse rustling in the doorway and quickly clamped our mouths closed and looked guiltily around. She pulled the curtain back and glanced in.

"Everything all right in here?" she chirped cheerfully. We assured her Alice was fine and sent her on her way. I thought Alice would burst a vein in her forehead, waiting for the chance to speak further. She took a deep, cleansing breath.

"Bella," she said with her eyes still closed, "I think you need to start at the beginning." So, I told her about meeting Edward for the first time in the library, not realizing he was a ghost, trying to speak to him. I explained how I tried to figure out who he was after I saw the photo in the library, how Esme confirmed his identity. I relayed his heroics in the tunnel but left out our tender moment in the alcove. That was private, I reasoned, and Alice didn't need that information. I continued with his claim that he was actually Edward Cullen and how I didn't understand how that could be possible. Finally, I explained his anger the night before and his warning to leave. Alice's eyes grew wider and wider as the story progressed. Jasper actually stood and started pacing by the window. She addressed her first words to him.

"Don't ," she commanded, their eyes locked. "This is real, and I almost died because of it. Do not try to "shrink" Bella." They continued to gaze at each other for another minute, and Jasper caved. He slumped back into the chair, running his hands through his hair.

"Fine," he sighed. "I guess you two will make a believer of me…" he trailed off and stared out the window.

"First of all," she was now addressing me, "he's not a ghost, and this information changes everything." She considered her words and sat silently for awhile. I didn't try and engage her; I needed time to process as well. She started again.

"I haven't really encountered this situation before," she said thoughtfully. "It sounds like Edward's body was hijacked, and a long time ago, if you're describing his appearance accurately." She smirked at me, and I think I blushed, but she didn't comment on it. She tapped her chin pensively.

"So, who's in Edward Cullen's body?" she mused. I clenched my jaw at the strange sound of that sentence. "Is it the blonde-haired man, I've been seeing?" She grew excited again but refrained from bouncing.

"That's why he seemed so tangible!" she exclaimed. "His essence will shine through the body's appearance! That's who I saw in the courtyard. That's why Victoria wanted to get rid of me!" Her epiphanies were punctuated by pumps of her small fist. Her eyes narrowed, and she grew contemplative again.

"Victoria," she said accusingly and sat still for a moment. Jasper continued to stare out the window, no doubt questioning his decision not to "shrink" us.

"She knows about Mr. Cullen; that much is obvious." Alice continued working through the puzzle out loud. "She's got to be who she says she is," Alice reasoned. "I've gotten no vibe off of her…" she trailed off and focused her attention back on me.

"Bella, the safest thing for you to do is leave The Homestead," she said seriously. "There's some really bad energy there, and it seems you're caught up in the middle of it. You should really go." I shook my head and said nothing.

"I understand why you won't go," she spoke gently, looking at me significantly. "Now, I really understand." There was a commotion in the hallway, and I heard Emmett's booming voice. Emmett and Rosalie entered the room with an artfully wrapped bakery basket filled to the brim with elaborate treats. We all laughed and made appropriate noises when Rosalie related that she and the bakery owner had gone to culinary school together in Washington, DC. What a coincidence, we mouthed, smiling at the McCarty's, but Alice, Jasper, and I were still reeling. They didn't seem to notice, and we enjoyed breakfast together. Rosalie had ignored me and brought some for me, too.

When it was time to go, Alice gripped my hand and squeezed tightly. She looked deep into my eyes and whispered, "Good luck." I was pretty sure I needed it.

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A/N: I'm at Disney World right now, and internet is expensive! It may be a few days before I respond to reviews, but please still leave them if you feel so moved…


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

It was only mid-morning by the time we left the hospital, although I felt as if I had been there for at least a week. Alice had decided not to break the news to Rosalie about her firing until after the restaurant opening, and I had agreed to keep it quiet as well, even though I knew Rosalie would make me pay for my part in the deception. If my life continued to get stranger and stranger, maybe I would develop the ability to act surprised by the news of Alice's permanent departure. Somehow, I knew my hope was in vain; Rosalie would have me for lunch when she found out.

With these topics on my mind, Rosalie had little difficulty in convincing me to call Ben and ask if he would be all right without us until prep for dinner service began tomorrow. She lauded some dress shops in South Roanoke, where she was convinced we would find the "perfect" dresses for the opening on Saturday night. I had to admit that the old Limited suit might not be the best thing to wear. Even though I had been on TV, the contest had not required professional clothing, only things I'd wear in the kitchen. I had planned to go with a chef's coat and dressy black pants, but Rosalie had a point. I would be photographed and could stand to wear something more formal at least for the interviews that would surely be required.

I had hoped Emmett might talk a little sense into her, but he had a real estate buddy who was a member at Roanoke Country Club. He had a standing invitation for a round of golf if he ever made it to town, and he was on the phone within minutes, gleeful with a tee time when he hung up. We made reservations at the Hotel Roanoke, another historic hotel, although it was associated with the Hotel School at Virginia Tech. I was surprised to learn from Rosalie that we took interns from the program at The Homestead during the spring semester. I couldn't picture Mr. Cullen shaping young minds.

This errant thought brought me full circle back to the conversation I had had with Alice. To say I was apprehensive to continue on without her back up was an understatement. I briefly considered taking everyone's advice and going back to New York. However, I knew this wasn't an option. Mario had hired someone else. I would look like a big fat failure. No one would want to hire me after I couldn't even make it through a restaurant re-launch, plus the little matter of my minor celebrity would make things even worse.

And I would by lying to myself, if I could not admit the enigma of held me captive as well. What would happen to him? Why was I the only one who could see and touch him? Alice had implied that I couldn't leave The Homestead because of Edward. I wasn't ready to let myself understand what she meant by that, but the thought of never seeing him again caused pain in my chest that I did not want to examine further right now.

Rosalie and I did spend a pleasant afternoon perusing several boutiques in the upscale Roanoke neighborhood. She found several gorgeous dresses, but then again, she had the sort of figure that looked good in everything. Based on the ease with which she handled the credit card, I inferred that Emmett was indeed doing pretty well. I found a tasteful, understated plain black dress that suited me immensely, if I did say so myself. It was way too much, but Rosalie convinced me that I could hang it by my desk in the kitchen and change quickly for interviews before and after dinner, if necessary. The Limited suit was replaced as the most expensive item in my wardrobe, and we headed back to the hotel.

We dined in the hotel restaurant, and I finally tried the famous peanut soup. I appreciated it but couldn't say that I would really want to eat it again. They had done a genius job of marketing it, though. I climbed into bed that night, still preoccupied and trying to come up with a game plan for my return to the resort, but also exhausted and without any outlet at the moment. It was only nine o'clock, but I quickly fell into a deep sleep, untroubled by dreams for the next ten hours.

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I awoke the next morning refreshed for the first time since I had entered the state of Virginia. I had not realized how much my fatigue had been affecting my mental processes, and I considered my return to The Homestead much reinvigorated. As we drove back along the winding, river-bordered road, I simplified the situation for myself. First, Edward was in trouble, and I might be able to help him in some way, so I had to try. Mr. Cullen and his wife were probably involved and not in a good way, so I had to be wary of them. Second, I had a high profile restaurant opening to produce in the next three days, if I wanted to have any hope of a successful and lucrative career. I knew I was missing lots of details, probably many of which were very important, but I would go crazy, if I didn't keep things simple. We would be back in time for the dinner service this afternoon, so I would start there.

Emmett slowly pulled into the narrow service driveway to drop Rosalie and I off at the back entrance to the kitchen. As we passed the corner of the building, I could see someone seated on the stairs that led up to this door. I had asked the kitchen employees to keep their smoke breaks to the designated smoking area across the lot near the dumpsters, so I was already mentally groaning at the chiding I would be required to dole out. I wasn't opposed to confrontation per se, but I was still somewhat uncomfortable with disciplining my employees, being the big boss and all that entailed. As Emmett came to idle alongside the stairs, my mental groan became an audible one.

There, slouched forlornly on the back steps to the kitchen, was Jacob Black. Rosalie huffed and started to get out of the car. I could see her flipping through her mental catalogue of insults. Emmett stopped her with a hand on her arm and turned to me.

"Do you want me to get rid of him?" he asked in a serious tone. I had filled him in on the Jacob saga (sans Edward's involvement, of course) during the drive home today. He had seemed to find it amusing, but now he was all business. My first instinct was to say, "Hell, yes!" but I tamped this down and shook my head slowly to answer his question. I would give Jacob a chance to apologize like a normal person, plus, I wanted to pick his brain and find out what he might know about the supernatural goings on around here. There was a very good chance he was involved in some way, and maybe I could get some good information.

Rosalie was already out of the car striding purposefully for the stairs where Jacob was perched. She pretended he was invisible and stomped up the stairs, almost stepping on his hand before he jerked it out of the way at the last minute. He cowered into the right railing and looked up at me hopefully.

I stopped in front of the bottom step and looked back at him, my hands on my hips. Emmett's car slowly pulled out of the lot, gravel grinding under his tires. That method of escape was no longer available to me.

"Hi, Bella," he said softly. He really looked subdued and chastened, I realized with surprise. He looked nothing like the crazed admirer I had seen in the kitchen yesterday morning. I decided to hear him out.

"Listen, I really want to apologize about Sunday night and Monday morning. I really have not been feeling well for the last few days; I don't know what came over me. You don't know me, so you don't have to believe this, but I never act like this." He got to his feet at the end of what seemed to be a very sincere apology, tinged with a lot of embarrassment. "I still really like you, in a way I haven't really experienced before, but I know my behavior was appalling. I could have hurt you in the tunnel, and the flowers after that really weren't appropriate." We stood there awkwardly, staring at each other. I think he was waiting for me to say something, and I was waiting for him to say more, maybe drop a clue. He cracked first.

"Well, I'll get back down to the Club House. That's all I really wanted to say. I'll try and stay out of your way." This last sentence was tinged with what I thought might be hope. I wanted nothing to do with him, but now I felt a little bit sorry for him. He turned and started to skirt the edge of the building to the area of the employee lot where his car was parked.

"Wait, Jacob," I said and watched his eyes light up. Damn it. "Umm, when we met on Saturday for the tour, were you feeling okay then?" I blurted. He looked at me strangely but took the time to consider before answering.

"Yeah, I guess that's the last time I remember feeling like myself. I think maybe I just needed some time alone after meeting you to consider what an impact you had made," he said admiringly with a touch of the insanity I had seen before, so I started to get a little nervous. I plowed ahead anyway.

"What did you do Saturday night?" I asked. "I mean, we had tentative dinner plans, but you canceled on me." He looked horrified.

"Is that why you're not interested?" he asked anxiously. Oh, no, this conversation needed to end soon. I chanced just a little more.

"No, no. I'm just curious about what else there is to do around here," I answered nonchalantly. There was something seriously wrong with him if he went along with this.

"Oh," he said, completely going along with my asinine explanation. "Well, I actually went to the pub planning to meet you later. I ran into this girl, Vanessa, from the stables, and I was talking to her for awhile, lost track of time." He peeked at me from the corner of his eye, looking sheepish. I was pretty sure that he had planned to ditch me in favor of this Vanessa, probably more of a "sure thing." I decided then I would give him five more minutes, and then go into the kitchen. I didn't want to get him truly riled up again.

"So, what happened then?" I asked, almost holding my breath. Jacob looked confused for a minute, probably wondering how his apology had turned into this line of conversation.

"I called you to reschedule," he admitted reluctantly, "but then Vanessa went home, and I chatted with Mrs. Cullen for a little while. My mind gets a little hazy after that, but I didn't have that much to drink, so I think that's when I started to feel under the weather," he surmised. I fought the urge to cover my mouth with my hand in disgust and surprise. Did Victoria Cullen drug Jacob's drink? If she did, then, why? And why would that make Jacob start acting strangely towards me. I decided to end the conversation now while I was ahead.

"OK, well, that's pretty interesting, Jacob," I said brusquely, "but I've got to get into the kitchen. Lots of work to be done. Thanks for the apology." I ran up the stairs and jerked the door open, turning to look back at him. He was staring after me with a hopeful expression. I could tell he was about to ask another question, and I was worried he planned to renew his pursuit of me, so I turned around and shut the door on him without looking back again.

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I was amazed at my ability to compartmentalize over the next several hours. I guess my little pep talk on the way back to Hot Springs had made a difference. I was single-minded in my quest for a successful new restaurant and thought little about anything else. Well, maybe I thought about Edward just a little and what we would say to each other at our next meeting. I refused to consider that I would never see him again. He had promised to watch over me.

I was more confident in my ability to direct the staff and get results. Granted, 1766 Grille was still closed for business, and once it re-opened we would be serving almost double the amount of food with two menus, but I could literally taste success. No pun intended.

When service concluded around 10 PM, I retrieved my overnight bag and new purchases from Roanoke from underneath my desk and returned to my room. I immediately changed into comfortable clothing and headed back out. I was no longer going to skulk around in the dark; I had questioned Jacob and gotten some answers. I was going to do the same with Edward and anyone else I might encounter. Edward had said he was going to stay away from me, but I decided I owed him the opportunity to join in my investigations, so I set out first for the library.

I passed a few night owl guests on my way, but no one paid me much attention. The library was deserted as usual, but I felt no glimmer of Edward's presence like I had on other occasions. The alcove remained empty as well. I regrouped quickly and fixed upon an ultimate destination. I knew that no one in my inner circle would be happy with my decision, but I was tired of wondering and fumbling around when everyone seemed to know more than me. I considered poor Alice lying in her hospital bed but swiftly pushed the thought aside. I was going to the hot springs courtyard. There was really no other choice.

I reached the stairs to the tunnel and wondered if Edward would make an appearance. I made it to the tunnel floor, and he still had not arrived. However, a brisk breeze picked up with no apparent source, blowing my hair around my face and picking the loose ends of my cardigan away from my body. I hugged myself and kept going. I continued on as the wind blew harder, whistling and shrieking in the quiet enclosed space. I knew it was Edward, expressing his disapproval but too stubborn to show himself. I'm not sure why I believed this to be the case; it could have easily been another malevolent being, but I felt safe.

As I reached the spa end of the tunnel and transitioned into the foyer, the wind stopped suddenly, and the air felt heavy, anticipatory, like it does just before a thunderstorm or even a tornado. I felt an edge of desperation in the air as I moved toward the exit that would lead me to the hot springs courtyard. I paused and looked up at the ceiling. I didn't know where else to address my speech.

"Edward? I know you're here." I began, feeling more than a little silly. "If you're so worried about my safety, then why don't you show yourself, and we can discuss this like adults. If not, then I'm going out to explore the courtyard." Nothing happened, so I pushed the glass door leading outside open and walked through. As the door was swinging shut behind me, I caught a reflection and turned around.

Edward was on the other side of the glass door, peering through at me, a fraught and desolate expression on hi s face. He stepped forward and touched the glass with his left hand, like he was reaching out for my hand. I unconsciously took a step back toward him, my own hand outstretched, as if to meet his on the other side of the glass. He beckoned me with his right hand. His intention was clear, come back inside. I looked back over my shoulder toward the courtyard. The majority of it was hidden around a low stone wall and large dogwood tree. I looked back at Edward, a look of yearning fixed on his face. I thrilled to the idea that the look was for me. Why didn't he come out to me?

Just then, I heard the crack of vegetation under a very real foot. The sound came from around the bend in the main courtyard. Someone else was here! I had to know who it was. I took a few steps toward the edge of the low wall, and I swear I could hear Edward's cries through the glass door. I rounded the wall, in what I thought was a stealthy manner. A man stood over the central well with the safety grate lifted. He was leaning over at the waist, over the steam, and seemed to be drinking it in. His back was to me, but I recognized the elderly frame of Mr. Cullen.

Despite my earlier bravado, I had second thoughts in that moment. I moved to back away quietly, realizing that I did not want a confrontation with this particular individual right now, but I was too late. He heard something and straightened up, but before he could turn around, his figure flickered. That is the best word I can come up with to describe what I saw. It was like a TV with bad reception. At first, elderly Mr. Cullen with gray hair was standing there, but then his image flickered back and forth with that of a young, blond man. The impeccable suit remained the same, but the piercing green eyes became piercing blue ones. The image flickered for what seemed like hours, but was probably only seconds. Then, it settled into the young blond man. He stood staring at me menacingly, and then he smiled and took a step toward me.

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	12. Chapter 12

Thanks for all the lovely reviews and to those of you who have added me to Story Alert. I truly appreciate your support!

I don't own Twilight, but I do own (by marriage) an awesome muscle car which I will drive to work on Fridays while my husband is deployed. Tomorrow will be the first of many…Firebird Fridays!

Again, non-Twilight characters that appear in this story are real, historical figures…

I have seen Watchmen way too many times (like more than Twilight), and it inspired a tiny part of this story as evidenced in this chapter.

_From Chapter 11… _

_ The image flickered for what seemed like hours, but was probably only seconds. Then, it settled into the young blond man. He stood staring at me menacingly, and then he smiled and took a step toward me._

**Chapter 12**

I stood frozen for only a few seconds and then the danger in which I found myself registered. The blonde man was taking another step toward me when I turned to flee. In my panicked state, my foot caught on the edge of one of the cobblestones. I caught myself on the low wall before I went all the way down, but I wasn't getting away fast enough. I knew Edward was behind the glass door, but I didn't know if he could help me. Once around the wall, I could see the door, but Edward was longer framed within it. Despair began to claw in my chest.

Suddenly, the door to the spa foyer shattered into a million sparkling pieces, scattering out into the courtyard. The shards of glass rained down around me like diamond snowflakes. I barely registered the slight stinging on my hands and chest where the skin was exposed. Stunned, I almost stopped to stare at the now gaping access to the indoors, but somehow found the strength to keep going.

Edward stood in the doorway, seeming to fill it, to shrink it. His expression was murderous, more livid than I had ever seen it, even with Jacob in the tunnel or when I shunned his advice. His eyes were not fixed on me but on the entity behind me, who I now assumed inhabited Mr. Cullen's body. I didn't dare look behind me to see how far away he was, lest I turn into a pillar of salt, like Lot's wife.

I noticed that Edward made no move to enter the courtyard. I remembered that he would not follow me into the garden and wondered if he could not leave the building. The thought was fleeting because he finally spared a glance for me and motioned for me to hurry. Another step, and I was in his arms. He pulled me toward him, mumbling that there was no time. I stumbled, and he pulled to his side, one arm around me with his hand at the small of my back. We shuffled into the tunnel like that, he supporting me and urging me to move as quickly as possible. I was breathing heavily and realized I was bleeding from tiny cuts on my hands, probably on my face and chest as well. Edward seemed winded too, like he was struggling physically, the same as I was.

"We've got to make it back to your room, lock the door. It's too risky for him to try and harm you there," he wheezed. I noticed that he didn't say I was safe in my room, and that Mr. Cullen couldn't get to me there. I felt chilled and hopeless. Then, I heard footsteps behind us in the tunnel. These were slow and measured, as if there was no hurry at all, not a worry in the world.

"Iiii-zaaaah-beeeeh-laaaah!" a menacing singsong called, echoing ominously toward us down the tunnel. I noticed the dim artificial light that normally illuminated the space seemed to have evaporated. The footsteps stopped, and I chanced a look back, although Edward continued to drag me with purpose. The young blond man stood there with his hands in the pockets of his suit pants, one foot crossed over the other, the picture of ease. He smiled at me and continued his taunt. He was letting us go.

"I'm not done with you yet, lovely…" he sang as a parting shot.

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Edward and I continued our frantic pace up the stairs to the main floor and through the lobby. The area was now deserted, the night owl guests I had seen before having returned to their rooms. I heaved a sigh of relief as the elevator doors closed, and it began its groaning journey to the top floor. Edward and I gazed at each other across the small space, having unconsciously backed ourselves into opposite corners. There was so much to say; I didn't know where to begin.

"I need answers," I said finally. "You've got to talk to me." He dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He remained still for a few seconds but ultimately raised his eyes to mine and nodded infinitesimally.

"Why did you come back?" he asked in a tortured voice. I took this to be a rhetorical question and didn't answer. "I guess it doesn't matter. You're involved now," he muttered to himself. "I'll tell you everything," he addressed me in a resigned tone. Just then, our elevator ride ended, and we were on my floor, just a few short steps from my rooms. Suddenly, I was nervous.

I self-consciously used my key card to open the door, fumbling with it slightly and almost dropping it. I pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside, quickly moving aside so he could enter, too. I made a sweeping motion with my hand.

"So, this is my room," I told him hesitantly, but remembered something almost immediately. "You've been in here before," I said almost accusingly. He grinned a little sheepishly and nodded. His grin made me suspicious.

"How many times have you been in here?" I revised my statement into a question. His expression grew guiltier. "How many times?" I demanded again.

"A few," he answered evasively. "You're peaceful when you sleep, and I promised to watch over you. Protective instincts, remember?" His apologetic response turned defiant at the end, and my face burned in embarrassment, thinking about him watching me.

"You shouldn't spy on people," I admonished but, despite the embarrassment, I was secretly pleased that he seemed to care so much.

"I don't sit and watch you sleep like a stalker," he corrected. "I just pop in and out to make sure you're safe." We were dancing around the weighty issues, and as much as I wanted to continue to flirt like teenagers, I needed him to treat me like an adult.

"I appreciate the sentiment," I told him, "but you need to fill me in on the issues here. I may be able to help you, but I'll need all the facts. For starters, how did you end up like this?" I made a waving motion in front of him to indicate his present state. Even though he seemed solid to me, I knew he wasn't. Alice had told me not to call him a ghost, but I didn't know the right terminology.

The smile from our earlier banter disappeared, and he looked at me seriously. He sighed again and took a seat on one of the chairs facing my unlit fireplace. I sat down in the other chair and waited for him to start.

"You've heard a little bit about Edward Cullen's life?" he began. I nodded solemnly and waited for him to go on. He continued to stare into the fireplace, carefully avoiding my eyes. I sensed this was difficult and suddenly realized that I was the first person to hear this story.

"I came to The Homestead just after my graduation from college. I had had a few lucky breaks during the war and earned some acclaim from that." I sensed modesty in his statement and made a mental note to look up his honors sometime. "I think my dad may have pulled a few strings as well, since he had a fair number of business connections. It was unusual to be given the general manager position of such a prominent resort without any experience." He paused again for a long time, and I wondered if I would have to verbally prompt him to go on. Finally, he turned to face me.

"Things went well. I think I was doing a pretty good job here. Celebrities were staying, and the word of mouth reviews were spreading quickly across the region, especially to Washington. We had a lot of politicians in here. One in particular stayed here several times. His name was Harry Byrd, Jr, and he was a senator from Virginia. He became something of a VIP guest." Edward was holding my gaze now almost desperately, like I was a lifeline.

"On one of his trips, he brought his daughter with him from Richmond." Edward's face grew dark, something akin to what I had seen in his face when he confronted Jacob in the tunnel. "Her name was Victoria." I gasped and my hand flew to my mouth with surprise. Edward's lips were pressed into a tight line, and he returned his gaze to the empty fireplace.

"I was very taken with her. She was beautiful and had been brought up with perfect manners. She seemed to be the epitome of a proper southern young lady. I only spoke to her a handful of times, but she seemed interested. She smiled at all the right moments, and I caught her looking at me several times. I knew I was being rash, but I thought I was in love with her. I asked to speak with her privately, and she agreed." Edward was talking now with his eyes tightly closed, a pained expression on his face. I continued to sit silently, but I really did not like where this story was headed. He went on.

"We met in the library, which I thought was a very romantic room. I complimented her, and she giggled and simpered, which I thought was a good sign. I now know that she was just playing a role. I pulled her into the alcove for more privacy." Edward shook his head ruefully, no doubt remembering the moment.

"She misunderstood my intentions. She was so forward; before I could even comprehend what was happening, her lips were on my neck. I pushed her away, determined to be a gentleman, and she laughed at me. I felt uneasy because there was cruelty in her laughter, something I had not imagined in her. I fumbled for words, quite embarrassed. She quit laughing and just stood there smirking at me, waiting for me to get it together."

"Finally, I told her I thought I was in love with her, dropped to one knee in proper fashion, and asked her to be my wife. I knew her answer before she said a word. Her eyes got very big, and she looked at me incredulously. Then, she started laughing in earnest. If I had thought I heard a touch of cruelty before, this laugh was vicious and callous. She laughed for what seemed like hours." Edward paused with his head in his hands. I got up from my seat and knelt on the floor beside him, running my hand through his hair. It felt silky under my fingers, and I wondered at the fact that I was the only one who could feel it. It was a very intimate gesture, and I questioned how he would take it. He raised his face and gazed at me with agony in his eyes.

"Go on," I encouraged. "I need to hear this, and I think you need to tell it." He nodded, agreeing with me.

"I have never felt like such a fool. I can't remember her exact words because I was so devastated by the laughter," he admitted. "Basically, she told me she would never tie herself to someone like me, that I had no imagination and no ambition. She said she had big plans for herself, and I was definitely not a part of them. She left me in the alcove, still chuckling to herself at my cluelessness as she went. I lied down on the bench there and pondered how I could have made such a grave mistake." Edward sighed, staring into the empty fireplace again over the top of my head. I remained kneeling beside him, leaning against his knees.

"I got up and wandered into the tunnel. I'm not sure where I thought I was going, but I was questioning everything about myself in that moment. I admit that I was somewhat cocky prior to that night, thinking that I could control everything in my life. I kept things in neat little packages. I had been very successful up to that point, excelling in aviation and in school. My stint at The Homestead had started well. My failure at love was a blow. I guess I realize that now. I still don't really understand what happened once I entered the tunnel." Edward looked down at me. I decided to ask a question.

"Why can't you go outside?" I asked. He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm tied to the building, I guess. Like I said, I don't really understand what happened, but I can only exist inside the parts of the building that were present in my time. That's why I tried to stop you from going into the courtyard." He said this reproachfully, and I bowed my head in contrition.

"Have you tried?" I asked and felt immediately stupid for saying it. Of course, he had tried; he had been trapped here for fifty years. I shivered. He smiled like he could hear my internal realization.

"Yes, I've tried," he confirmed. "Sometimes, I almost feel like I could do it. I exist for a moment, but then I blow awake like smoke and find myself back on the inside, usually in the tunnel, since that's where I first became aware of my change." He trailed off, raising his hand to smooth my hair away from my face, gazing into my eyes. "I really wanted to follow you into the courtyard, but I just don't have the power," he said this apologetically.

"Finish telling me about that night," I requested, redirecting the subject. "I can tell there's more. I have questions, but maybe you'll answer them," I prompted him. He gazed at me a few more seconds and smoothed my hair again before resuming his tail.

"I never liked the tunnel," he continued. "I always felt negative energy down there, and there were stories about guests who saw things. One woman had a bad fall in the tunnel and insisted that she saw a man just before it happened. I thought it was the usual scary stories that one hears in old buildings, never gave it much thought. I still can't tell you what made me go down there that night."

"I headed down the passage toward the spa building. It was even a spa in those days, although we actually used the original hot springs at that time," he interjected. I wondered if he was stalling but said nothing.

"My humiliation caught up with me anew and a wave of pain and uncertainty washed over me. I leaned against the tiled wall and closed my eyes. I felt a rush of air and opened my eyes in alarm, only to see a blond man, dressed in turn-of-the-century evening attire standing in front of me. His eyes seemed hungry and wild, like he didn't know where he was or what he was doing. I started to shout for help, but before I could do anything, he placed both of his hands on either side of my face and pulled me toward him like he was going to kiss me or bite me. I think I did shout then, but nothing came out." Edward's voice trailed off, and I stared at him in horror. What a dreadful story! I think I could guess the ending now, but I wondered who the man had been in his life or if he was simply a demon.

"I expected to feel his teeth on me or something, but I felt nothing. It was completely silent and dark. I didn't understand the darkness because I couldn't recall the lights going out in the tunnel." Edward was continuing the tale. "Then, I realized that I was nothing, just floating air. I couldn't see myself or my surroundings. The spirit or ghost or whatever he was, was gone. I was delirious and confused for weeks, just existing as wind, never really aware of my surroundings." Edward grimaced with remembrance. I stroked his arm in what I hoped was a comforting manner. He stopped my hand and laced his fingers with mine.

"Finally, I developed the ability to form myself. No one else could see me, but I could at least view my body, hold myself together. It felt like a huge accomplishment, like I was still here." He looked at me questioningly, as if asking if I understood what he meant. I nodded for him to keep going. His eyes darkened and narrowed.

"That's when I realized that the spirit from the tunnel was using my body. I watched myself go about the business of running the hotel, as if nothing was wrong. I learned that Victoria had indeed accepted _my_ marriage proposal, and a wedding was being planned. I was angry and vengeful. I learned to move things and blatantly flaunted this ability. There were a lot of ghost stories about the hotel during those days." He smiled regretfully. He remained silent, so I prompted him.

"What did you do? Why didn't the ghost stories continue?" I asked.

"I came to terms with my new _condition_," he said sardonically. "I gave up the spectacle. By then, I realized that the entity using my body was called James. I assumed he was the hotel manager killed in the fire in 1901, given the name, but I don't know for sure. He was growing more powerful by the day; he used the energy from the hot springs to maintain his power, and there was nothing I could do. He could see me, and every time he did, he would gloat. I didn't want to end up a bitter, old ghost. So, I just watched and lived my life vicariously through the guests. I tried to stay away from him." He shrugged with a sad look on his face, and my heart broke for him. Then, he squeezed my hand.

"Until the night, that you came into the library," he told me. "I hadn't felt the longing and bitterness in years, but I was so angry that I couldn't talk to you. That's why I brought the book to your room. I knew I shouldn't, but I wanted to be a part of your life. I knew it was silly." He trailed off softly.

"When you were able to see me, I was shocked. When I touched you, I allowed myself to hope for the first time since I became this spirit," he was whispering now, gazing at me intently. I gulped with the tension.

"Bella," he said reverently. I could only nod; my voice had left me. "I can't stay away from you." My throat was dry, but I managed to croak out an answer.

"Then, don't." I whispered back to him. He placed his hands around my upper arms and tugged gently, indicating that he wanted me to stand. I willingly obliged, and he pulled me onto his lap. His face was only inches from mine, our noses almost touching.

"I want to try something," he whispered, and I nodded, my voice having failed again. I only hoped our thoughts were in sync.

He leaned forward slightly, and our lips were just barely touching. I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. He leaned forward more, increasing the pressure, and then his hands were in my hair, pulling me close to him. My lips parted without a conscious thought, and his tongue was in my mouth and mine in his. My arms went around his neck, and I pressed into him greedily. We kissed with hunger for what seemed like hours. I was lost in him and had lost all concept of time.

He lifted me gently and carried me over to the bed, laying me down respectfully. He broke the kiss, and I mewed in displeasure. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were sparkling. I'm sure I looked the same.

"You need your rest," he said. "There's no telling what you're going to face tomorrow. You're safe in here with me. I don't think they'll come into the room; it would be too obvious. The door is dead-bolted anyway." I acquiesced, knowing he was right about needing rest. I fixated on his words.

"I'm safe with you. Does that mean you'll stay?" I asked needily. I actually didn't care how I sounded. I just wanted him here with me.

"I'll stay," he confirmed. I got ready for bed, and he climbed in next to me, pulling me close to him. I did feel safe. For now.

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A/N: I have procrastinated mightily this week in editing the remaining chapters of this story. I should be able to stick to my every 5 day update schedule, but if I do not, then you can blame DarkBlueBella. I am obsessed with her story, The Selkie Man. I was literally leaving patients in clinic to wait for me while I played on the computer and plugged a trip from LAX to Kirkwall, Orkney into Orbitz. It's not as expensive as you would think, but I still don't have the time to go.


	13. Chapter 13

I just found out that the actual Executive Chef at The Homestead is the son of my husband's host parents when he was at the Naval Academy. They were at my wedding. How weird is that?

Congratulations to my cousin, who has pledged Alpha Delta Pi at the University of Alabama this weekend. She is not reading this story, but I have received pictures from her pledge day while writing, and I am so happy that it appears that business is as usual for the incoming freshmen at U of A, despite the devastating tornadoes this past spring in Tuscaloosa.

**Chapter 13**

As I drifted into consciousness, the events of the prior evening came rushing back. I desperately thrashed around underneath my covers searching for the man with whom I had fallen asleep the night before. I met only smooth sheets on either side. I sighed despondently, slowly sitting up and leaning forward to rest my head in my hands. The enormity of the change in my situation was too much to contemplate.

"Are you always this frazzled in the morning?" a teasing voice startled me from across the room. I lifted my head and saw Edward slumped in one of the chairs by the fireplace. He smiled broadly at me, and I answered him with one of my own.

"Edward!" I exclaimed. "You stayed with me." He continued grinning at me.

"I told you I would. Did you doubt me?" He retorted. We sat like that grinning like idiots at each other for several minutes. It occurred to me that we were far too happy considering our current circumstances. But, I was still thinking about our newfound intimacy and The Kiss, as I was calling it in my mind. I wanted to hold on to this feeling for just a bit longer before reality came crashing back.

Edward rose gracefully and moved back over to the bed. He lowered himself beside me and pulled me close, burying his lips in my hair and then placing a chaste kiss on my forehead. I sighed in contentment, and we reveled in each other's closeness for awhile.

Finally, Edward broke the silence. He leaned away from me and lowered his head in order to look straight into my eyes. He took a deep breath, and I instantly knew that I didn't want to hear what he had to say.

"Bella, I want you to leave," he began. I shook my head furiously, a frown firmly fixed on my face. He continued on, ignoring my body language. "Hear me out, please." He held up his hand, although I had yet to respond with words. "After last night, I realize that James and Victoria have brought you here for a reason. You are not an innocent bystander. You must see that," he pleaded. I was stung by his words.

"Are you implying that I am not qualified to be hired as a chef here at The Homestead?" I asked, my voice rising shrilly. "That there must be some ulterior motive for me to be invited here?" Edward looked chagrinned and remorseful at the same time.

"Of course not, Bella, I know you are a talented chef, but James was taunting you last night. He is going to be lying in wait as soon as you leave this room," he warned. I knew his words were platitudes. How could Edward know if I were talented or not? He didn't eat. He didn't watch reality television, and he didn't even surf the internet. He had sat in the library, reading books and eavesdropping on guests for the last fifty years. I was suddenly filled with despair. My own moods were giving me whiplash.

"Edward, this is my life. I can't leave before this restaurant launch. My fifteen minutes will be up, and no one else would take a chance hiring someone so untested and unreliable. Besides, what would happen to you if I left?" I voiced this last concern but didn't really expect him to answer. I knew that I would be abandoning him to his unique confinement. How could I leave him when we were so obviously tied together?

"I can't lose you," he said, his voice cracking. He took my hand and brought it to his lips, running them over my knuckles. He squeezed his eyes closed tightly with emotion. My heart clenched in my chest.

"Edward, if I leave, you will lose me," I said softly, contradicting his logic. He kept his eyes closed and moved his lips to my wrist. Then, he lifted his head slightly but didn't meet my eyes.

"At least I would know you were somewhere, happy and moving on with your life," he breathed. I was overcome with emotion, and tears pricked at my eyes. I brought my hands to his face and brushed back his hair. Our eyes met, and he raised his hands to my cheeks, pulling me in close. Our lips met again, for the second time. This kiss seemed slower, sadder somehow, and was filled with longing. His hand tangled in my hair, and my arms went around his neck. Finally, we broke apart but remained only inches apart, our foreheads resting against each other.

"You're so stubborn," he complained, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You'll be the death of me." I giggled a little bit hysterically at the pun.

"I'm no match for James," he told me seriously, "but I will do everything I can to protect you and watch over you." I nodded in understanding, becoming apprehensive at what my decision might really mean. I looked at the clock and knew I needed to get to the kitchen. The restaurant opening was only two days away. We had a sort of dress rehearsal arranged for tonight during dinner service. I had originally planned to invite Mr. Cullen as a taster, but now obviously scrapped that idea. I decided to see if Esme and Mike, the florist, might be amenable to helping me out.

My reverie was broken by a sweet kiss on my temple. Edward was smiling at me with an emotion I took to be fondness. I was filled with a warm glow and smiled back at him sheepishly.

"Sorry, I'm already planning my day in the kitchen," I told him. He looked back at me intently.

"I'll never be far away," he promised. And then, I blinked, and he was gone.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Had I been in a different frame of mind, I might have found humor in my exit from the room. Once dressed in my kitchen uniform. I stood apprehensively in front of the door. I slowly pulled back the deadbolt and stood there, waiting. I'm not sure what I expected to happen, but nothing did. So, I even more slowly turned the knob and opened the door. I poked only my head into the hallway and whipped my face back and forth comically, not sure what benefit multiple looks would garner. Finally, I felt confident enough actually to step into the hallway. It remained empty as I made my way to the elevator.

In fact, nothing unusual happened at all as I made my way to the kitchen. It might have been a totally normal day. As I passed the row of stores in the shopping promenade, I noticed the reflection of another figure in the glass. I had thought I was alone so I stopped and looked around. No one else was here. I looked back at my reflection, but I was alone now. I wanted to feel apprehensive, but I didn't. I suspected Edward was the culprit. He had promised to watch over me. I smiled to myself and continued on to my workplace.

Our morning routine was per usual in the kitchen. I saw neither hide nor hair of James or Victoria. I kept waiting for one of them to enter the kitchen and confront me, but everything seemed absolutely normal. Except for one moment when I happened to catch a reflection in the stainless steel door of one of the refrigerators. I distinctly saw a male figure topped with auburn-colored hair. I turned quickly but there was no one behind me. When I turned back around, the reflection had not moved. I recognized the haphazard hairstyle of the figure, despite its blurriness. I smiled to myself and continued my work, feeling safe and protected.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

My sense of security began to wane despite the frequent glimpses of Edward I had in all reflective surfaces throughout the lunch service. Why hadn't the Cullens challenged or even threatened me? James had clearly indicated that he wasn't finished with me. What was he waiting for? I didn't think it would be wise to seek them out, but I felt quite adrift just pretending everything was fine. The other shoe would drop surely, but when?

Ben had dinner service for the Main Dining Room well in hand, so it was time for me to begin work on my launch menu "dress rehearsal." Esme and Mike had agreed to be my tasters, and I directed my wait staff to set a table in the 1766 Grille Dining Room. I was proud of menu. I had pulled heavily from fresh, local produce in the farm-to-table tradition but felt like I had a few surprises up my sleeve as well. Ben and I had made the dishes before, and they had turned out wonderfully, but now I was going to do it with my staff in the kitchen at the same time as dinner service for the other restaurant. I wanted to identify any weakness before they caused a problem. Tomorrow was supposedly going to be filled with several interviews, mostly local media. However, I knew at least The Food Network would be involved with a national report, given my contest-winning minor celebrity. I wondered if my _situation _with the Cullens would affect the interviews. I wished that I had some indication as to what they were thinking!

I had one of my staff slicing heirloom tomatoes for a stacked take on the classic caprese salad, and another one was arranging marinated cucumbers on a plate that would hold steamed Chesapeake shrimp. I was busy roasting duck, which I planned to present two ways. I would slice the breast and serve it alongside a cake of thigh meat and foie gras wrapped in a thin pasta wrapper. I thought it would turn out well garnished with some morel mushrooms and gravy. Rosalie was taking care of desert, as usual, and we had decided to go traditional with a peach tart accented with peach ice cream and carmelized figs.

Esme and Mike arrived and I directed them to the table in the dining room. I was going to serve my guests myself. I peered cautiously around the door into The President's Lounge, all the while wondering if I was going to run into James or Victoria. Nothing. I was getting seriously paranoid.

I took it as a good sign when I returned to clear the first course plates and found Esme shaking her head with her eyes closed and Mike using a spoon to scoop up the remaining sauce on his plate.

"Hey, I don't mind if you lick it," I joked and his head jerked up. Esme opened her eyes and smiled at me.

"It's wonderful, Bella," she complimented. "I think you'll be a resounding success!" I smiled at her. She was such a nice, motherly lady.

"Well, that was just the first course," I promised. Mike rubbed his hands together in mock glee. I turned to head back to the kitchen and almost tripped over a chair, gasping in surprise. Edward was seated at the next table, watching me with a mishchievous smirk.

"Are you all right, dear?" asked Esme with alarm. Mike chivalrously made to push back his chair and stand to my aid. Edward's smirk grew, and he put one finger to his lip in a gesture of silence. I shook my head and playfully glared at him.

"No, I'm okay," I reassured them. "Just excited about tomorrow." I made my exit. The rest of the courses went just as well, and I was feeling pretty confident. Rosalie and I joined them for dessert, and the four of us enjoyed the delicious stone fruit treat.

Rosalie and I were dawdling slowly back toward the kitchen after Esme and Mike left, discussing the wine pairings. We had joined forces with the local Chateau Morrisette winery and hoped to gain more publicity and reach a wider audience with the move. We had just reached the kitchen doors, and I had drifted slightly off topic, telling Rosalie about the dogs who lived at the winery, when I caught a glimpse of a reflection in the main restaurant doors. I looked up eagerly, hoping to set eyes on Edward once again. However, I was sorely disappointed.

This was no ghostly spirit reflecting himself in an antique glass door. It was Victoria Cullen, lurking just outside the restaurant in the lounge, watching us. I wondered how long she had been there studying us. I stopped and stared back at her. Knowing she had been seen, she came forward into full view. Rosalie kept on for a few steps until she realized I had stopped. She looked back at me in confusion and then on to Victoria, who continued to glare at me but didn't speak. Finally, she turned on her stilettoed heel and flounced away. I sighed out a breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"What was that all about?" Rosalie demanded.

"Beats me," I lied. "Maybe she's mad I didn't ask her to taste the food."

"I'm actually surprised you didn't ask her and Mr. Cullen to do it," Rosalie said seriously. I looped my arm in hers and towed her back toward the kitchen, anxious to be done with the day and back in my room. With Edward, hopefully.

"Yeah, maybe I should have. They still give me the creeps," I told her, truthfully, but in a vast understatement.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

I made it back to my room unscathed, but my shoulders ached from tensely holding them up around my ears, expecting calamity at any moment. What were they waiting for? I actually longed for a legitimate excuse to pull chocks, but I knew it would end my career. I pushed the thought away.

I opened the door and literally fell into Edward's arms. I have never been so glad to see someone in my life. He pulled me close, while I kicked the door shut behind me with my foot. My face was buried in the crook of his neck and his in my hair. We said nothing for awhile and just held each other. Then, I broke the silence.

"I always thought it would be creepy to have someone you can't see watching you, but I think I quite like it, when it involves you, Mr. Cullen," I said archly, needing a little levity. He smiled back at me and kissed me gently on the lips.

"Miss Swan, I do enjoy the watching," he responded with a grin, "but I'm at a loss to explain the lack of action today. I didn't sense James a single time. If he has a purpose for you, I can't understand why he is delaying." He finished this with a frown.

"Victoria was watching me through the dining room doors during the menu tasting," I informed him, "but she took off as soon as she realized I saw her." I shrugged and watched his frown deepen.

"I have a very bad feeling about this," he told me with chagrin. "I just don't know if I'm strong enough to protect you," his voice cracked on this sentiment, and I was enveloped back into his arms.

Our lips met, and the kiss quickly deepened, becoming heated. His hands were everywhere, one brushing up and down my upper back and neck, the other kneading at my hip bone. My hands were in his hair tugging at the haphazard peaks. I started walking him backward toward the bed and gasped when we both fell as his calves hit the edge of it. A giggle escaped my lips.

We were lying down now, tangled together still kissing fiercely, hands roaming. One of his hands dipped underneath the hem of my shirt in the back and slid up the middle of my back. The sensation of his bare skin on my bare skin in a somewhat forbidden area made me crazy. Suddenly, I was in a frenzy, tearing at his shirt buttons, desperately trying to open them. I felt him pull away from me, his hands gently capturing mine and tugging them down.

He pulled me to a sitting position, but I couldn't meet his eyes. I was flushed with embarrassment at his snub.

"Bella?" he asked, trying to get my attention. I didn't answer.

"Bella, sweetheart?" He lowered his face level with mine and tried to force me to look at him. I remained silent, flooded with humiliation. He sighed.

"Bella, it's not that I don't want to. Believe me," he punctuated this with a wry laugh. "I just don't think that would be possible for us. I'm not actually here." He said this last part very softly with what sounded almost like self-loathing. I brought my eyes to his, surprised.

"What do you mean?" I asked. He didn't answer but demonstrated. He brought his fingers to his shirt button and twisted the fabric through the hole. It seemed to push through and open, but when he pulled his hand away, it was if nothing happened. I gaped at him in shock and growing horror.

"I'm energy, not solid. What you see is only a projection. I'm not sure why we can touch…" he trailed off. I was filled with despair and just stared at him dumbly. How had I fallen in love with someone who wasn't actually here?

When I realized my final thought, I was stunned. I _was_ in love with Edward, I admitted to myself. Even though our future seemed grim, I was not going to abandon him. I thought this with determination.

Edward's face had crumpled, and he moved to rise from the bed. I could tell he thought this was the moment when I would run screaming. I tugged on his hand bringing him back to me. I wrapped my arms around him and began kissing along his strong jaw line.

"Edward, you are enough for me," I declared, and I felt him sigh and relax into me.

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**A/N:**

I'm trying my hand at suspense here, infusing the chapter with impending doom and anxious non-action, but I'm not sure I succeeded. It may have just been boring. You can let me know by clicking the Review button. I have about 10 or 11 faithful reviewers (who I adore, you know who you are!), but I have over 100 people who have placed the story on alert. Just sayin'.

I know I'm not always the best about reviews myself since it's hard to do it from my Blackberry, which is where I normally read. But, I'm getting an iPhone soon, and I promise to be better.

Please check out the adorable dog photos on the Chateau Morrisette website (www. thedogs. com). This is a delightful boutique winery located along the Blue Ridge Parkway, not far from The Homestead, in Virginia.

Menu inspired by The Inn at Little Washington in Washington, Virginia, and Navio in Half Moon Bay, California.

I just found out that the actual Executive Chef at The Homestead is the son of my husband's host family when he was at the Naval Academy. How weird is that?


	14. Chapter 14

Well, a few people had some trouble with Edward and his buttons. All I can say about that is Edward is kind of like a blob of energy at this point. He can't change his form, which is a projection of his last physical appearance, but he can manipulate other objects (like lift her shirt and move a book) via his energy. Edward is quite pessimistic about his ability to utilize his power for anything, especially to defy James. You know how pessimistic most Edwards can be.

Please bear with me as we veer away from the regular storyline again for a peek at the enemy.

Chapter 14

_Interlude_

Victoria watched as the young chef entertained her guests in the dining room of 1766 Grille. The four of them were clustered around one of the four tops, thick as thieves, laughing and enjoying desert. She felt her chest constrict with what she was able to recognize as jealousy. She had not enjoyed close friendships during her lifetime. She had fixed upon her single-minded goal as a young woman and had no time for such things. Now she was finally _this_ close to achieving it, but she was an old woman. Would it slip through her fingers?

Victoria was peering through the glass doors that separated the grille from the President's Lounge. The lounge was filled with vacationers, enjoying bar nuts and drinks, and they paid little attention to the attractive but elderly woman huddled near the hostess stand. She felt a moment of regret for the choices she had made, but it was fleeting. She shook her head involuntarily and reminded herself that there was only one Dr. Cullen in the building, and it was she. And with that came great power.

She continued to greedily take in the scene before her until she heard a sharp, deprecating sound behind her. She recognized its source without turning around but went ahead and did so slowly. James was casually leaning against the wall, watching her. She ignored him and turned back to the happy quartet in the dining room. Just at that moment, Bella looked up and noticed her standing there. Victoria was both pleased and concerned to find suspicion and fear in her face. There was no point in watching any longer. She turned on her heel and joined James. She knew they would exit the lounge together and head back to his office.

As the passed into the hallway, his brought his arm up to draw her to him in a gesture that would be interpreted by outsiders as protective affection. Only Victoria could feel his hand clutch painfully at the base of her neck, squeezing angrily.

"What are you doing, Vic?" he inquired, a smile plastered on his face, undoubtedly for any guests who might see them, always, the image, the hotel the most important thing to him. "I told you to stay away from them." She swallowed, pushing away her unease, reminding herself again of her victories and his utter reliance on her.

"I was staying away, just checking in," she answered flippantly. "I need to know what she's thinking, if she's going to bolt or see it though." She said this last with a narrow-eyed glare at James, implying that he was responsible if things ended with Ms. Swan's departure. They had arrived at James' office, and he pulled her inside, closing doors made of converted Toltec sacrificial carvings. An argument was clearly brewing. Both parties felt they harbored the more compelling grievance.

James closed the doors and moved toward the dying embers of the fire. He used a poker to stoke the flames a bit higher. Both could feel the nip of coolness in the air. Their elderly bones were more susceptible than the younger inhabitants of the building. Victoria moved toward one of the wingbacks, recalling their united front the day that Bella Swan had arrived at The Homestead. Victoria had been ecstatic that day, feeling as if her years of study were finally coming to fruition, but now she was questioning everything. Had it all been in vain? Surely, fifty plus years of marriage meant something. She decided to push her luck.

"We should do the ritual tonight," she said bluntly. James dropped the poker in surprise but retrieved it and returned it to the rack. He spun on her with anger in his expression.

"No, we should not," he thundered at her. "How many times do I have to explain this? The opening has to happen! The hotel will suffer if it we don't successfully reopen the restaurant. The publicity is now guaranteed. It is only a matter of whether it is favorable or detrimental." His narrowed eyes bore down on her. She stood her ground.

"Who cares about the hotel? This about us and the rest of our lives," she insisted. She hated that by virtue of her female character that her tear ducts seemed to be hardwired to her anger, and she blinked back tears.

"Well, who will be around to clean up things, Vic? It will be us! Do you really want to make things harder on ourselves? If we can just wait this out, it will be easier in the long run," he was actively placating her now.

"James, I don't want to be a chef. I might be able to fool the staff somewhat, but she is now quite close with the pastry chef. She'll have to go, if this is to work," Victoria plotted. James nodded.

"Fine, the pastry chef goes. That's easy. She was close with Alice, no doubt she was involved in Alice's extracurriculars," James agreed, but Victoria could tell he just wanted the conversation to end. There were things that needed to be said that he clearly didn't want to hear. He was hoping this declaration would stop her talking, but Victoria definitely wasn't done.

"How are you going to fire her, if you are no longer the manager?" she asked. James took a deep breath as if he was suffering many fools.

"I'll still have some say, I think," he said thought fully. "The police will undoubtedly become involved as well. It shouldn't be hard to plant a seed," he smiled thinking about things to come. Victoria was overwhelmed by his arrogance and overconfidence. It was interesting, because until recently, he had been the more timid of the two. She was the one who had been so sure of their plans. She took a deep breath and prepared to defy the only man she had ever loved.

"You can't do it without me, you know," she said softly. James stared at her. He had rarely seen this timid, unsure Victoria. He was surprised to see her now. Victoria had always been an enthusiastic partner to him as soon as she had realized who and what he was. He had assumed that she was happy to do whatever was best to help him. He had thought she was devoted to him and only him.

"You act as if this had all been about me," he said in an almost hurt tone. "You're going to get an awful lot out of it as well, you know," he said reproachfully. She wanted to cry out that it would mean nothing without him but knew she would never lay herself bare this way to him. It didn't matter that they had been together for as long as they had. It had always been a relationship of convenience. She realized this now with some amount of sorrow. It really didn't change anything, though.

"You have spent your life in this hotel, or should I say _lives_?" she asked nastily. "You're such a cliché," she shook her head in condescension, "such a chip on the shoulder. You persevere here in order to find worth in yourself," she finished with pique. James guffawed at her display.

"Really?" he said with amusement, "You're going to berate me for staying here? You're the one who tied yourself to me. I thought you had grand plans for a doctorate and a career. It's not my fault you chose to anchor yourself here. And you're certainly getting something out of it in the end," he finished significantly. Victoria felt righteous anger building. She had spent literally years of her life, dedicating them solely to unraveling the mystery of James. Of course, she would benefit, but in the end, she had done it for him. She had been ecstatic when she realized the possibilities of the world presented by him. Limitless, she thought.

"Maybe I am getting something out of this," Victoria retorted, "but you must remember how much you need me. How much longer do you think that body will last? And what will happen if you're still in it when it gives out? You'll be right back where you started, a bitter, angry shadow trapped in the foundations of this hotel." Victoria was just getting started with her righteous indignation.

"I spent years and years traveling the world, gathering information, studying shamanism and the occult. I have done field work with almost every indigenous people in the world. Haiti, Indonesia, Malawi, New Orleans, Native American tribes, all for you! I was ridiculed for my interest in parapsychology and cast out of polite academic society. Which one of us spent an entire year sweating with a Navajo Hatali? That was me, no you. All you do is sit around and moon about your precious hotel. Do you have any idea what it took to convince that medicine man to teach chants to a woman? Much less one that encourages the spirit of an injured body to move on to the spirit world? That is one of the most sacred rituals taught!" She was almost screaming at this point. James smirked at her.

"I'm sure you used all of your many charms," he drawled suggestively. She was shaking with anger now.

"How dare you judge me! How can you take possession of a body and have no idea how you did it? The idiocy of it stuns me. You still don't even seem to care. You're so nonchalant, but it took me almost forty years to master the particulars. You take me for granted." She trailed off, exhausted by her rant and dissolved into tears and sobs.

James rose from the hearth where he had been squatting. He noticed with some dismay that he could feel his knees aching from time in that position. He carefully admitted to himself that she was right about this aging body. He shuddered when he remembered his years in exile. He was also exhausted by the argument and wanted to turn his attention back to the hotel. There were so many important things to attend to before the opening. Now was the time to placate, so he could move on to other things. He crouched in front of Victoria by the wingback and took her hands in his own.

"Vic, please don't cry. We are going to get through this together," he said softly, carefully disguising in the insincerity in his voice. Why did she always have to be so dramatic? He did know that he needed her; she was the key. But, he couldn't understand why she didn't see his side of things.

"James, how could you let her see you in the courtyard? After Alice saw you, too? So many mistakes lately," Victoria lamented through sniffles. She didn't understand how he could have been so sloppy.

"And your attempt to silence Alice wasn't a mistake?" he asked. She cringed a little, realizing he was right about that one.

"OK, I'll admit that could have gone better," she began, but James cut her off, not interested in listening to her justify herself again.

"It doesn't matter. Ms. Swan will stay to save her reputation, and there is nothing she can do to stop us. There's no way she knows anything of substance anyway. And the boy definitely won't be a problem. He really is quite dim." James finished thoughtfully, hoping this summary would end the conversation.

"But she is suspicious now," Victoria concluded. She went on to ask another question that had been troubling her since James had related the events in the courtyard and tunnel to her. "Why do you think _he_ is back now and following her around?" James shrugged.

"Didn't you just tell me the other day not to worry about _him_?" he reminded her. "I don't see how he could influence the situation. It's not like he can talk to her and tell her what happened." Victoria nodded thoughtfully because this was the truth.

"You're right," she agreed. "He probably just suspects what we're planning to do. He's weak and doesn't even try to visit the springs. He can barely move a book in the library; he hasn't bothered the guests in years. There's not much he could do." She concluded. James smiled at her, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief that she seemed to be letting the argument go.

"I wonder why he doesn't follow them both, though. Just her," she mused. James grinned broadly.

"Well, she is rather beautiful," he said mischievously. Victoria laughed.

"Why, thank you, sir," she said coquettishly, already feeling possessive of the body.

"Why don't you go home and get some rest?" James suggested, eager to get her out of his office. "You've got a big few days coming up."

She closed the doors behind her as she left. James sagged with relief to have her gone. He smiled and began to whistle contentedly as he turned back to his paperwork and interview schedule for the next day.

Victoria stood outside the closed doors, running her hand over the carved wooden surface before leaving. There were scenes of ritual sacrifice depicted, some she interpreted as summoning demons or supernatural help. The scenes were an inspiration to her. She had brought these carvings back with her from Peru after a visit many years ago, conveniently forgetting to compensate the previous owner. She thought about all she had learned over the years through her travels and studies.

Her argument with James may have ended, but she had noticed that he had not mentioned leaving The Homestead when the uproar died down. She suspected he was keeping things from her. She determined to remain on guard.

_End of Interlude_

A/N: Probably 2 or 3 more chapters and a short epilogue after this. Let me know what you think. Is everything becoming clear? Or still confused?


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: This week has been busier than expected, so forgive the lag time between updates. You know how I just started a new job 3 weeks ago? Well, I found out earlier this week that we are moving to DC next July. I'm definitely happy about it, but it means I need to get on the stick applying for medical licensure in DC, Maryland, and Virginia right away. I'm sure I don't have to tell you what a pain that will be. Not to mention the expense…

Anyway, it was still less than a week, so I don't feel too bad. Anyway, there seems to be a lot more people who have alerted this story since the last update. That makes me very excited! If you know of someone who is recc'ing The Homestead, please let me know so I can thank them!

**Chapter 15**

I awoke on Friday morning in Edward's arms. He had told me that he didn't sleep; he was able to turn off his mind and fade into a purgatory-like nothingness, but no actual sleep. This reality horrified me and further emphasized the unconventional nature of our relationship. I had no idea how things would play out here at The Homestead with the opening and the Cullen's, but I had meant what I said. Just being with Edward was enough. My mind probed the edges of a darker, larger awareness that included all the details of having a boyfriend that no one else could see, but I pushed it away. I had bigger fish to fry today. Not literally. I would never serve fried fish at a restaurant opening. I shifted and turned to face Edward.

"Good morning," he said smiling and nuzzling my hair. I idly wondered if he had a sense of smell and was aware of my morning breath.

"Didn't you get bored just lying here with me for the last…"I glanced at the clock, surprised, "…nine hours!" This last part was an exclamation. I hadn't slept so soundly in recent memory, even my night in Roanoke. I started scrambling up to get ready. Edward steadied me and pulled me in for a searing kiss. If he was aware of the morning breath, he wasn't letting it stop him.

"Feeling you next to me is such a novelty that I can do it for hours on end, and it doesn't get old," he declared once he had released me. I grinned back at him like a fool, but then sighed and sat up. He sat up, too.

"I've got to get ready. I have interviews starting in less than an hour," I told him. He nodded in understanding and reclined on the bed watching me go through my routine.

"Will I be seeing you again today in multiple reflective surfaces?" I asked. He smirked and nodded at me.

"Bella, you really must be careful." The smile slid off his face as he said this. "I'm not sure you really understand what a disadvantage I have against James and possibly Victoria. We still don't know exactly how involved she is in what's going on." He was very serious, and I responded, hoping to reassure him.

"Edward, I know you think you're weak, but I know you can protect me," I told him. It was apparently the wrong thing to say. Edward's brows scrunched together and an almost angry expression took over.

"Bella, please take this seriously. I don't have a body! No one else can see me. I'm powerless against James!" He pleaded with me, but I felt strangely sure of him. I decided to let it go because I didn't want to part with him under strained circumstances.

"All right." I agreed, kissing him quickly. "Now I've got to face my adoring public," I joked as I headed out the door.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

I started my morning with a reporter from The Roanoke Times and moved on to another one from The Richmond Times-Dispatch. They would both being staying the night in the hotel and attending the dinner tomorrow night. Mr. Cullen was obviously milking the publicity for all it was worth. I marveled at the irony that had us on the same side for this one particular occasion.

Both interviews covered the basics. There were a few brief questions about my childhood and schooling, and then they moved on to the juicier topics. They wanted to know all about my co-stars on America's Next Top Chef, who might have hooked up with who, who hated who, and all the other gossip that would entail. I, of course, refused to comment on anyone's personal life, much to the reporters' frustration. Although I was still uncomfortable with the public eye, I had had enough practice since the show that I was able to maintain my poise.

I was caught off guard when the little blonde reporter from Richmond leaned in conspiratorially and asked if there was "someone special in my life." I gasped and wrung my hands awkwardly, stumbling over my words as I tried to answer gracefully. That's when I caught Edward's reflection in the glass of a picture frame hanging on the wall behind the woman, Lauren, I think was her name. Just seeing Edward there, smiling, supporting me, calmed me immediately. I took a deep breath and gave the reporter what I thought was a solid answer, admitting nothing. In the end, I don't think she noticed anything odd about my moment of panic.

The morning passed easily with a few other food and travel writers visiting my kitchen. We had some menu samples available for tasting, and they all seemed to enjoy themselves very much. Both restaurants would be closed tonight in preparation for tomorrow night but also to give everyone a little breather before the big day.

The only tense part of the morning occurred when I finished my formal interviews and looked up to find Mr. Cullen (I still couldn't truly think of him any other way, despite knowing the truth.) and Victoria entering the kitchen. They mingled amongst the guests, studiously avoiding me. I thought I caught them eyeing me a few times, but each time I turned to try and catch them, they had looked away.

I wasn't sure what to make of this behavior. Mr. Cullen, or_ James_ I reminded myself, had clearly taunted me with the knowledge that he had other plans for me. So, why was he averting his eyes and acting almost deferent in my presence now? Had he simply meant that he needed me for the restaurant? No, that didn't seem to be what he had been implying at all. Yet, here he was in the kitchen, merely feet away, whispering in his wife's ear and diligently avoiding my eye. It made no sense to me. I went into the afternoon still feeling the proverbial ax above my head.

We spent the afternoon preparing for the next evening's meal. I tweaked a few of the recipes, and everyone was busy chopping, stirring, and marinating. The reporter from Roanoke lingered, but she seemed far more interested in interviewing Ben than she did in me or my food. We had a short staff meeting and sat down to a simple meal, just to enjoy each other's company in the calm before the storm. Well, except for Ben. He asked to be excused after the meeting in order to grab a bite with _Angela_. Everyone seemed very excited, and I was caught up in the energy as well.

Just for fun, once our impromptu staff dinner had broken up, I headed to the library instead of straight to my room. I paused in front of the alcove and drew the curtain back slowly, remembering the confusion of my first visit to this room.

Unlike earlier in the week, the alcove wasn't empty. Edward stood there next to the wooden chair, a questioning smile on his face.

"What are you up to?" he said warily. I just grinned and pulled him beside me onto the cushioned bench.

"Just reminiscing," I said and proceeded to pull his lips toward mine, tangling my fingers in his hair. It was so hard to remind myself that I wasn't actually feeling the soft strands; they were only a projection, not real at all. I felt a pang of sadness, but it quickly disappeared once our mouths were joined. He broke away, just a fraction of an inch.

"I like reminiscing with you, Miss Swan," he smiled against my lips. And we didn't talk again for awhile.

Eventually, we moved the party back to my room. I was feeling giddy, like a teenager, which was funny because I hadn't made out like this since I was actually a teenager. I was pondering this while Edward was placing light kisses along my collarbone and shoulder, back and forth. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Tomorrow is the big day," he said cautiously. It seemed like he wanted to say more.

"Yes, it is pretty exciting," I agreed. "Despite everything that is going on with the Cullen's, I'm really ecstatic. This opportunity is really my dream. I never thought I'd actually have my own restaurant," I admitted. He hesitated and started speaking again.

"If everything goes well, and the restaurant is a success, would you consider leaving, I mean, after a while?" he asked. I scowled at him.

"I'm not leaving you, Edward!" I cried. "How many times do we have to have this conversation? I'm going to stay with you," I finished, rolling onto my side away from him.

"I want to be with you," he said softly to my back, "I'm just afraid. There are so many things I can't give you." I rolled back to face him and kissed him gently on the lips.

"Just let me love you," I pleaded, surprising us both with my impulsive declaration. He stared at me wide-eyed, and I'm sure my face mirrored his own. Then, he broke out into a radiant smile. He held me close and whispered in my ear.

"I love you, too, my Bella."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

My eyes opened slowly to the early morning sun this next day, but it didn't take me long to remember that _today was the day_! I lurched out of bed as if electrocuted. I heard Edward chuckle gently on the bed as I stumbled around the room, unsure which part of my morning routine to do first.

I dressed carefully in my new black dress and put my chef's coat and pants in the dress's hang-up bag to change into later. That earned an enthusiastic wolf-whistle from the direction of the bed. I gave him a quick smile and headed down to the kitchen. I was getting used to our domestic routine. My mind started to turn toward the limitations of that routine, but I quickly squelched that. Today was my day, and I refused to be negative.

First, I went to the kitchen where my staff was just arriving and getting started on prep work. I made sure everyone understood what needed to be done, as well as the timeline, and then turned my attention to front of the house matters.

Esme and Mike were in the dining room when I entered. Mike was carefully arranging the centerpieces on each table, and Esme was overseeing the final touches on the table dressings. I moved to help her and her staff. We had kept the traditional federal blue tablecloths with golden accents, so, after consultation with Mike, I had decided to go with a mostly ivory centerpiece. I didn't know too much about flowers, but he seemed to have lilies, some roses, and a few hydrangea blossoms in each, with minimal greens. There were ivory candles mixed in with the flowers. It looked beautiful, and Iimagined how it would appear with the candles burning in the early evening dim.

I was approached by Esme's assistant, Carlisle, who was dressed as usual for a royal audience. That man had style. My mind drifted to Edward's dapper appearance in his 1950's eveningwear, and once again I was forced to turn away from distracting and distressing details.

"Chef, I have the final seating plan, for your review." He held up a tablet computer with a labeled drawing of the dining room. "If you are satisfied, then I can set out the place cards." He showed me one of the heavy ivory stock cards with sophisticated navy script stamped across the front. I wanted to hug myself in delight at how perfectly everything was turning out.

I glanced at the diagram. The main VIP on the list was Leonard Sandridge, the Executive Vice President and COO of the University of Virginia in Charlottesville. Apparently, he often held conferences in our facilities and was quite a good customer and frequent golfer. Ralph Smith, a Republican state senator from Roanoke, was seated across the dining room from Creigh Deeds, a Democrat from Bath County. It all looked good to me. I turned to Carlisle with one question.

"Have you run this by Mr. Cullen?" I asked hesitantly. "He knows a little bit more about whom we need to impress than I do." Carlisle nodded at me.

"Yes, he approved it earlier but said that I should get the Chef's final endorsement before I set out the cards," he told me formally. Seriously, this guy was uptight. I moved on from Carlisle's lack of personality to what he had actually said. How odd was it that James was deferring to me? Was he trying to placate me? Why? I shook my head to erase the questions like an etch-a-sketch. It didn't matter, and I had other things to worry about right now.

"Great, then, Carlisle, go ahead and put out the cards," I told him. The morning was gone, and I knew that many of the guests for the dinner tonight would be arriving around this time to settle into their rooms before cocktail hour began at 5 o'clock. I saw Angela, the reporter, lurking out in the President's Lounge and wondered if Ben had had a good night.

I headed back into the kitchen and grabbed the garment bag holding my chef's outfit. I quickly ducked into the restroom and made the switch. It was time to get down to the serious chef work.

We worked like dogs for the next few hours. I was at my most perfectionist, and I was pretty sure that several of my staff wanted to kill me. However, I had enough experience to know that they'd thank me when we were a smashing success. I saw Edward's reflection several times, but, honestly, I was too focused to give him much thought.

I saw that 5:00 had arrived, and I called for plating of the amuse bouche to begin. The moment had arrived! The time passed quickly after that. The wait staff kept bringing back rave from the diners, and Ben would give a little cheer after each report. I was mainly concerned with the proper cooking of each of the proteins, and the next thing I knew, the duck had gone out, and I was rushing to change back into the black dress.

I entered the dining room along with the wait staff bringing Rosalie's desert and began to make my rounds to each table, thanking the guests for coming and making sure they had enjoyed their dinners. I was met with smiles and handshakes and congratulations. It was thrilling, and I could tell my wide smile was belying my naturally reserved personality. I chatted with the diners and spoke with Trustee Sandridge about a private dinner for his wife's birthday in November as the party broke up.

Finally, as the guests trickled out the dining room, I headed back into the kitchen. My entrance was met with cheers, and I heard a cork pop. Someone shoved a champagne glass into my hand, and I chugged the bubbly liquid. My glass was miraculously filled again as I hugged and celebrated with my staff. I noticed that Angela, the reporter, was in the kitchen and saw her grab Ben's hand and pull him away. Emmett's arm was tightly around Rosalie when she smiled and nodded at me as they headed out the back door to the parking lot.

My glass was filled again, which was strange since I clearly remembered drinking the last one and hadn't seen anyone fill it again. Oh well, I thought, and tipped the glass back against my lips.

Suddenly, the glass was gone, shattering against one of the nearby prep tables, and I was shoved back onto the kitchen floor, surrounded by glass. Luckily, I wasn't hurt. I checked myself carefully for cuts but found none. The chattering and laughter had stopped as everyone turned to look at me.

Edward stood in front of me, his full projection, not just his reflection. His arm was still outstretched from hurling my glass away. His eyes were wide and horrified, and he seemed to breathing heavily, as if from great exertion. My eyes locked with his.

"Bella, we have to go, _now_!" he practically shouted at me. I glanced around at the remaining staff, still clutching their own champagne flutes. They were gazing at me curiously, probably wondering what I was staring at so intensely.

"Chef, are you all right?" asked Bree, one of the young waitresses, watching me carefully. I clamored to my feet, shaking my head apologetically.

"Sorry, guys, just got a little carried away there," I laughed nervously. "I'm just going to head to bed." I inched toward the door. "Good work, tonight!" I tossed out behind me as I passed through the swinging door.

Edward was motioning toward me frantically from the hallway past the President's Lounge. The bar had been closed for the evening due to the event, and the lounge was dark. I headed out of the dining room, toward him, around the hostess's station.

Abruptly, I felt exhausted; convinced I couldn't move another step. I gripped the wall in panic, fixing my gaze on Edward as my goal, but it didn't seem like I was making much progress. Edward was motioning to me, his mouth moving, but I couldn't hear anything. His face became a blur, and I couldn't see him clearly. Slowly, I leaned against the wall and slid down its length. And everything went black.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

A/N: OK, I lied. Or I didn't lie; I just seriously underestimated the length of the climax to this story. It will definitely be at least 2 more chapters and an epi, if not more than that. The epilogue is done, but I still need wade through these final chapters and force them to make sense!

I'm not sure what possesses me to include so many canon characters. I mean, naming the reporters and Esme's assistant is just gratuitous. But, I didn't set out to write an original tale; I'm playing with Stephenie Meyer's original, so that's all I can say. Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	16. Chapter 16

So sorry for the delay. I hope some of you saw the disclaimer on my profile, warning that the update would be postponed. RL has gone crazy, but we are completing our journey. This chapter will be a little shorter than usual, as will the next. I wanted to split them up evenly. Last chapter later this week, and then the epilogue next week. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 16**

_Abruptly, I felt exhausted; convinced I couldn't move another step. I gripped the wall in panic, fixing my gaze on Edward as my goal, but it didn't seem like I was making much progress. Edward was motioning to me, his mouth moving, but I couldn't hear anything. His face became a blur, and I couldn't see him clearly. Slowly, I leaned against the wall and slid down its length. And everything went black._

I came to consciousness lying on the cold, hard ground. I groaned and tried to roll over, quickly realizing that my hands and feet were bound together quite uncomfortably. Dreading what I would see, I slowly opened my eyes to a nightmare.

I was lying on the flagstone of the hot springs courtyard, partially propped against one of the low well walls. Jacob was lying similarly slumped, unconscious, against another well. I felt a stab of guilt upon seeing him. I had dismissed him and his odd behavior for the last two days, and it appeared he was an unwitting participant in this drama now. I wish I had understood the connections before.

Filling one of the open spaces was a large square area filled with sand. I blinked to make sure I wasn't seeing things, but it didn't feel like I was hallucinating. White sand made up the majority of the area, but there was also an intricate pattern filling the center, made of many different colors. I noticed one of the other open spaces was filled with a similar spectacle. I crinkled my brow in confusion.

Suddenly, a pair of legs and feet filled my line of sight. James was bending over me, peering into my face. He was no longer bothering with the "Mr. Cullen" charade, allowing his true form to filter through the body. His hair was perfectly oiled, gleaming golden in the half darkness, and he was dressed in a flawlessly pressed tuxedo. He grinned at me wolfishly.

"Bella is awake, darling," he said to someone out of my view, "We need to get started here." Victoria stepped around him, and I could see her in all her glory. I didn't know whether to laugh or scream.

She was dressed in a flowing caftan-like garment of red and black with feathers worked into her hair. There was a thick leather cord around her neck attached to a large crystal. She kind of looked like Betty White dressed for nature worship in The Proposal. Then, she leaned down and peered at me, her dark eyes seeming to reach into my soul, and I decided to go with fear as my reaction.

My eyes frantically searched for the door to the spa foyer. I could see the freshly replaced glass off to my left several feet away. I could see Edward through the glass, one hand raised, touching the surface with his palm. Our eyes locked for a horrifying second, and then my heart sank. He couldn't come outside. He had warned me before that he wasn't strong enough. That knowledge didn't stop my panic and the breath gathering in my lungs.

"Edward!" I screamed, "Please help me; I know you can. Don't let them hurt me!" Victoria's eyes snapped in the direction of my plea. Then, unsatisfied, she looked back at me. She crouched slightly, grabbing a handful of my beautiful black dress, and pulled our faces together.

"How do you know about him?" she demanded, eyes narrowed. "There's no one there." But she was wrong. Edward continued to hesitate by the door, watching us with dismay. James joined us, and Victoria released my dress. I fell back to the wall with a thump. I groaned, my head still fuzzy from what I realized must have been drugs. James glanced back at the door, taking a look for himself.

"No, he's there," he informed Victoria thoughtfully. "I can see him through the door. He doesn't have the energy to come outside." Victoria broke into a pleased smile.

"Well, we may have truly lucked out with this one, then," she said excitedly. "She's gifted. A medium." She grabbed my hand and flipped it palm up at an uncomfortable angle, apparently trying to read the lines that were etched there. "What else can you do, Miss Swan?" I, of course, did not answer. I continued to stare desperately at Edward through the glass, willing him to take a step.

"Vic, we need to get going. I'm going to need a good night's sleep. This one, I mean_ I_, will have a headache in the morning given the bump on his, I mean _my_, head." He nudged Jacob with his toe and cackled. Victoria tore her eyes away from me and nodded.

"Go ahead and put him on the sand painting," she directed. James obliged by taking Jacob by the legs and dragging him carefully onto the painting. The pattern smudged slightly. Then, she turned to me with an ugly smile.

"Sorry, Bella, but Jacob gets to go first. This is a traditional Navajo healing ritual that encourages the spirit of a gravely injured person to move on to the spirit world. I've just tweaked it a bit for our purposes." She winked at me and pulled something from her pocket. It looked green and spiky, like a piece of a cactus. She put it in her mouth and chewed with a grimace. James was watching me with cruel pleasure.

"It's peyote," he informed me as Victoria continued to chew with a disgusted expression. "It doesn't taste great, but it will focus and amplify Vic's power." He chuckled. "Things are about to get interesting." He moved to stand on the sand painting, next to Jacob. I cast one last hysterical glance toward Edward.

Hope bloomed in my chest as I saw him push against the glass, a determined look on his face. Slowly, the door began to swing open. Edward took a tentative step into the courtyard, still holding the door. His face was wreathed in concentration. He took another step, and the door swung shut behind him.

"Impossible," I heard James mutter, as Edward took another step toward us.

"What is it?" demanded Victoria, staring in the direction which captivated both James and I, obviously seeing nothing. Neither of us answered, riveted by Edward's slow approach.

But then, my hope was extinguished like a flame. Edward seemed to stumble and grimace with pain. His movements slowed, like he was trying to maneuver through thick mud. His image flickered and began to fade. Our eyes locked and he mouthed something to me that looked an awful like, "I'm sorry."

James laughed with glee, and Victoria continued to look confused. "Don't worry, hon," he told her. "_He_ tried to come outside. It seems these two have gotten quite close," he watched me dissolve into tears thoughtfully. "I think he thought he could save her." He laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

Suddenly, Victoria lurched and started to tremble. She leaned over a nearby bush and vomited into it briefly. James steadied her and helped her to sit on the edge of nearest well. She laughed a little weakly.

"The experience is beginning. I need to start." They gave each other a loaded look and kissed quickly. "See you soon," she told him as he took his place back on the sand painting. She pulled herself upright once more. I cried quietly, terrified and hopeless, as she began to chant. I didn't know what had happened to Edward. Maybe he was gone forever now.

Victoria's chanting continued, mesmerizing me. It was accompanied by purposeful hand gestures, which I watched with dread. I wasn't stupid. By this point, with everything that had been said, I realized that Victoria and James planned to steal Jacob's and my bodies. I squirmed against my restraints, trying desperately to figure some way out of this mess.

I froze in shock and terror as I watched Victoria pull a long, evil-looking hunting knife from among the folds of her garment. She appeared to be fully in a trance now, her eyes glazed and distant. James knelt before her on the sand next to Jacob. I watched in horrified fascination as she raised the instrument and slashed across the left side of James' neck.

He slumped back onto the sand painting, and a red fountain exploded from his throat. It sprayed across Victoria's chest and face, splashing her with gore. The image over the body flickered like it had the first time I had seen James in this courtyard. I closed my eyes to block out the awfulness, but when I opened them there were two figures where there had been one.

James stood next to the fallen body of Mr. Cullen. He was still handsome and dapper, smiling at Victoria and the body on the ground. He threw a satisfied smirk in my direction for good measure as well. The elderly body that should have belonged to my Edward was slowly bleeding out on the pavement.

Victoria stopped chanting, momentarily leaving her trance. She was casting about anxiously, and I realized that she couldn't see James, now that he was a spirit without a body. He passed his hand in front of her face, creating a stiff breeze which lifted her hair. This must have been a pre-arranged signal because she seemed to calm and moved over to Jacob and picked up her chant once more. She used the knife to cut his restraints. He remained passive and unconsciousness throughout it all, oblivious to the danger brewing around him.

Victoria continued to chant, and she made a curious gesture with her left hand that looked sort of like a genuflection. It seemed to be some kind of signal to James because he abruptly crouched over Jacob's body and thrust his hand straight into his chest.

Jacob awoke with a start. His eyes flew open, and his face twisted with pain. He opened his mouth in a tortured scream, frantically clawing at his chest, but unable to grasp at the source of his torment. I let out a terrified whimper myself, unable to believe what I was seeing. I redoubled my efforts with the restraints.

I could tell Jacob's breathing was becoming labored as he continued to gasp and moan in obvious anguish. James continued to squeeze and twist with his forearm. I wondered if he was squeezing his actual heart, like in the Indiana Jones movie. Finally, Jacob's breathing seemed to give out with a final gasp.

Jacob's facsimile appeared crouched next to the now still body on the ground. James withdrew his arm and watched him with amusement. Jacob looked wildly around him in panic and confusion. He looked a Victoria chanting, covered in blood, and then turned to James standing over him. Finally, he noticed his own body lying on the ground at his feet. His eyes grew round in perplexity, and then he noticed me slumped a few feet away.

"Bella?" he asked tentatively. "What's going on?" His voice was weak but contained an edge of hysteria, which I could sympathize with at this point.

"Jacob, don't worry, everything's going to be all right," I told him, knowing my words were a lie. Victoria's chant cut off abruptly, and she whipped her head around towards me. I could see the euphoria and madness in her eyes, but she was not totally under the control of the peyote and ritual. She still worried for James.

"The spirit has left the body?" she demanded excitedly. I ignored her, refusing to answer, and she took this as an affirmation.

"Now, James!" she shouted with authority. "Take the body while he's in transition!" James sunk to the ground and began to slide himself into the body of Jacob on the ground, the two images blurring grotesquely. I began to cry again, choked sobs, rejecting what was happening to Jacob, and soon to me.

Just then, the courtyard was rocked with what felt like an explosion. James paused in his acquisition, and Jacob's spirit trembled pitifully on the ground next to him. Even Victoria felt the tremble, trailing off from her chant, glancing around for the source of the disturbance. The sound seemed to have come from behind me, from the well which was my uncomfortable pillow. I craned my neck to see what had James' jaw dropping incredulously.

Edward was rising from the well, surrounded by a golden glow. His face was glorious and terrifying, and his gaze was fixed on James. His fists were balled into fists and his posture was tense. He was clearly here to fight. I started to cry again, this time with relief and renewed hope. A confident smirk returned to James' face, replacing the flicker of uncertainty.

"You're not strong enough to touch me," James informed Edward with a snarl. Edward was now floating above the well, like an angel.

"We'll see about that," growled Edward. With that, he flew at James, a blur of light in the darkness, and they crashed together onto the courtyard floor.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Another cliffie, but you won't have to wait as long…


	17. Chapter 17

Surprise! Here's the last chapter. The epilogue will be posted on Wednesday the 21st . Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed, especially to ImWithPattz who reviewed my story on the Indie Fic Pimp blog a few weeks ago. You are very kind. The banner by JaimeArkin is beautiful. This experience has been a lot of fun for me.

"_You're not strong enough to touch me," James informed Edward with a snarl. Edward was now floating above the well, like an angel._

_ "We'll see about that," growled Edward. With that, he flew at James, a blur of light in the darkness, and they crashed together onto the courtyard floor._

**Chapter 17**

I held my breath as the two figures twisted, morphed, and blurred together in a haze of color. Their fight was not that of two corporeal beings. I sensed more than a physical struggle occurring. I saw James take the upper hand, pushing Edward's form into the ground as if he could dissolve him there. At the last moment, Edward revived, flipping James against the wall of the nearest well. I don't know how long I watched battle; it seemed to last my lifetime.

Victoria was hysterical. She could sense that too much time had passed since she had called for James to usurp Jacob's body. She gripped Jacob's shoulders, lifting him slightly off the ground. His head lolled to the side limply.

"James, where are you? Are you all right?" she cried, shaking the body slightly. She turned hateful eyes to me. "What is happening to him? What do you see? Tell me now!" she hissed at me.

Her furious questioning snapped me from my trance, and I redoubled my efforts to free my hands, knowing no matter what happened this distraction was my last chance to save myself. I had to help Edward. I didn't know if I could save him, but I had to try. I knew I couldn't make it without him.

Victoria was torn. She wanted to continue cradling what she had come to think of as James' body, but she was dying to know what was happening. Edward's original body was now lying broken and pale in a sea of blood, all but forgotten. Edward and James continued to tumble, fading and brightening, flickering across the courtyard.

Finally, I worked the cord around my wrists loose. I frantically worked at them, until my hands were actually free. I immediately turned my attention to the restraints on my ankles. This was the push Victoria needed to make her decision. She leapt at me, wielding the knife.

"If you ruin this for me, I will kill you!" she threatened. "I can find another host; I'm the one with the knowledge and power here now! He is weak-minded, sniveling, and pathetic. He's hung back in the shadows for more than fifty years! Why would he think he could succeed in stopping us tonight?" Her threats escalated into shrieks. She raised the knife and held the point just beneath my jaw. "Tell me what you see right this instant!" I could feel the point digging into my skin and trickle of what I assumed to be blood tickled the side of my neck.

Victoria's final demand was punctuated by another explosion through the courtyard. Victoria lost her balance and fell back away from me a bit. I turned in shock to see James lying supine on the ground, one hand raised in supplication to Edward who stood over him, chest heaving and eyes blazing. Victoria began to struggle to her feet, bent on attacking me again, as Edward brought his fist down onto the center of James' chest.

As his fist made contact, James screamed. It was primal and horrible and filled with agony. I could tell that Victoria heard it, too. She ceased trying to reach me and huddled in fear against the well. I watched enthralled as James' body splintered into a million shards of light. They swirled and pulsed for a moment before forming a ball, which began to move toward the fallen body of Edward Cullen. It moved inexorably as if it was being sucked into a vacuum.

When it made contact with the body, it glowed red for a second and merged with his chest. A blast of light and sound filled the courtyard, which would have easily knocked me to my feet had I been standing. Then, it was silent, completely silent and still. All that was left was the body of an obviously dead man, no trace of James.

The hush was broken by a howl from Victoria. She obviously sensed what had happened even if she hadn't seen it with her eyes. I was impressed with her mental gymnastics, because I honestly had not caught up. All I knew was that Edward now stood in the center of the courtyard, a golden cloud of light surrounding him, his eyes fixed on me.

Victoria launched herself onto the body of the elderly man, all fantasies of a life with the young man before her gone. She cried bitterly, mumbling and whispering to the fallen man, laid down by her own hand, rocking him rhythmically.

She didn't resist me as I pulled her gently away from him, after kicking off the remainder of the cords around my ankles. She continued to stroke his face, ignoring me. When I grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at me, I saw only dullness in her eyes. That didn't stop me from doing what had to be done.

"You are such a bitch, Victoria!" I told her as I punched her as hard as I could in the jaw. She slumped to the ground beside her murdered husband, unconscious.

I heard a slightly hysterical giggle from the other side of the courtyard and saw that Edward had cracked a smile. He remained standing, seemingly frozen on the spot. I rose to my feet and threw myself at him. Then his arms were around me, and mine were around him. Our lips were kissing frantically. I could feel energy pulsing under the surface of his form. He felt powerful, and it stirred something deep within me.

"I knew you could protect me," I told him between kisses. He pulled me tighter to him.

"Oh, Bella, when I saw her put that knife to your throat, I don't know what came over me," he panted against my cheek. "I didn't know I had it in me, but now I feel like it was there all along. I just needed you to unlock it."

"I knew all along," I said again, just reveling in his embrace. But, I felt a prickle up my spine. We weren't alone.

I jumped away from Edward in a panic, suddenly registering a third figure in the courtyard. It was Jacob crouching sadly next to his still body. I felt horrible guilt for forgetting him. Edward realized his presence at almost the same time.

"Jacob," I said moving slowly toward him, as one would approach a strange dog. "I'm sorry for all of this, but you need to get back into your body. Do you understand me? It's been too long. You've got to hurry." He stared at me blankly, probably overwhelmed. I didn't blame him, poor guy.

"Bella?" he asked again as he had before, more cautiously this time. "What happened?"

"James wanted to take your body, just like he took Edward's many years ago," I gestured to Edward behind me, assuming Jacob could see him since he was in spirit form. "Edward stopped him, so now you're safe. You can go back."

"Bella, I'm so tired. I just want to sleep," he sighed, slumping to a sitting position and closing his eyes.

"No! Jacob!" I said sharply, very alarmed now. "You can't do that. You've got to get back into your body now."

Unexpectedly, Jacob's eyes flew open. He let out a relieved sigh and got to his feet. His expression was relaxed, more peaceful than I had ever seen it. There was no trace of cockiness or the confusion of his bewitchment.

"It's you," he breathed, his eyes fixed beyond me. I turned to see what had his attention. A young Native American woman was standing at the edge of the courtyard. She was dressed in what looked like a pale green hospital gown. She was beautiful with coal black straight hair falling to her waist. Her face was unadorned by make-up but her complexion was clear, her skin flawless. She smiled kindly and raised one hand to beckon to Jacob. He immediately took a step toward her.

"No, Jacob, you can't!" I shouted frantically, rushing to grab his arm, to keep him in place. When, I made contact with his "skin" (for it wasn't actually his skin, only the energy that projected that appearance), I received an electric shock. I held on tightly, determined to save him, but the courtyard disappeared.

-0-0-0-0-0-

I was in a hospital. The walls were decorated with cartoons and balloons. I quickly surmised it was a pediatric ward, but I was in a cubicle without toys or a child. I focused my attention on the bed. There was a teenage girl lying in the bed, frail and thin beneath the sheet. She had a beautiful face but her head was bald, her eyelashes and eyebrows gone. I immediately understood without words or sound that she was dying of a terrible disease.

I moved forward, closer to the bed, to get a better look at the sick girl. Her eyes were closed; she didn't know I was here. Just then, a young boy entered the room, gripping a sad bouquet of flowers tightly. He looked uncomfortable and unhappy. He paused and stared at the girl with a distressed expression. Then, he looked up, and I gasped in surprise. It was Jacob.

Since he didn't respond to my outburst, I quickly surmised that he couldn't see me. I recognized his youth and decided I must be having some sort of vision. I relaxed, somewhat, and waited for the rest to unfold. Jacob moved to the edge of the bed. He touched the girl's shoulder.

"Sarah?" he questioned quietly. She awoke slowly but gave him a radiant smile when she realized who was by her side. She pushed herself into a sitting position.

"Jacob, what are you doing here?" her voice was weak and fatigued. She reached for the flowers. "What are you doing here?" she asked again, cradling the blossoms, obviously appreciating them despite their pitiful appearance.

"I'm so sorry I haven't been to see you sooner," he apologized, his voice cracking, "I really wanted to, but it's hard to get a ride. I have a golf tournament at The Finely Club, so I thought I would stop by…" he trailed off gazing at her adoringly.

"Oh, Jacob, you're here now," she said, tugging on his arm, pulling him down to her. She deposited the flowers on the far side of her bed. "Lay with me for awhile?" she asked. He smiled and nodded, creeping onto the edge of the bed.

"Anything for you, Sarah." he said, closing his eyes in satisfaction once they were tangled together on the narrow hospital bed, a true smile on his face.

-0-0-0-0-0-

I gasped as I realized I was back in the courtyard. I was still gripping Jacob's arm, but he was pulling away from me, trying to reach the girl, who I now recognized as Sarah, despite the lack of hair in my vision.

Jacob's lack of regard for women, his lothario ways, and his overall outlook on life now made perfect sense. I dropped his arm and stepped back.

"Bella, what are you doing?" Edward anxiously asked, coming toward me quickly. "You've got to convince him to get back inside!"

I said nothing as I watched Jacob continue toward Sarah. He reached her and took her hand. She smiled beatifically at him and intertwined their fingers. He bent his head as if to kiss her forehead but before it could happen, they disappeared. Edward was gripping both of my arms now. He peered down into my face, confused by my pensive expression.

"Bella, what is happening?" he questioned. I shook my dreaminess away and focused on him, urgency taking over. I knew my purpose now, what had to happen.

"Edward!" I ground out imperatively. "You've got to take Jacob's body." He dropped my arms and stepped away, like he'd been burned by me.

"No, Bella," he said low and placating, like he would to a wild animal. I shook my head, refusing to drop this. I knew it was right.

"It's meant to be, Edward. I was brought here for a reason, but it was more than James wanting me for Victoria. The universe has been planning this. Don't you see?" I pleaded with him. "I'm a medium. I could see and touch you when no one else could. It's all working out too perfectly. This is no coincidence." I concluded.

"What about Jacob?" Edward asked. "I can't just take his life like James did to me; it's not right, no matter how much I want to be with you."

"No, Jacob is part of this, too. That was his true love that just appeared here, the girl you saw. He loved her as a teenager, and she died. I saw it in a vision when I touched him. He's with her now, and he's happy. If you don't take his body now, it will die!" I finished urgently, pleading with him to agree with me. There was no time.

Edward stood still for several moments, just staring at me, not touching me. I was so afraid that he wouldn't agree with me, didn't want me. Finally, he gripped my hand and closed his eyes.

"OK, I'll do it," he said, moving toward the still figure of Jacob's body. I watched as he crouched nearby and then slid into the figure as if sliding into a sleeping bag.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Two days had passed since Edward and I had left Victoria unconscious in the hot springs courtyard and left to call the police. We had gone straight to Tyler at the front desk and given him the abridged version of the evening.

Edward was my boyfriend from Richmond and had come to celebrate the opening with me. We had stumbled upon a strange and horrifying scene in the courtyard: James with his throat cut and Victoria unconscious next to him. There was no concern about Edward being recognized. As we had seen with James before him, it was more of an effort for him to project the image of the body he possessed than to allow his spiritual appearance to shine through. Tyler called 911.

As much as I wanted to take Edward upstairs and see if I could peel his clothing off now that he had an actual body, I knew we needed to leave, and quickly. So, I told Tyler, I was traumatized and was leaving immediately. Once the police had interviewed us, we headed to Roanoke. I gave them contact information for The Hotel Roanoke, the place where I had stayed with the McCarty's, threw my things into a bag, and Edward and I piled into my truck. It was 4AM by the time we were on the road. The front desk clerk was cheerily assigning us a room at the hotel by 6:30, and I was on my way to the hospital by 7. Edward had stayed behind. We both assumed it might be a little too much for Alice to face us both.

Currently, Jasper, Edward, and I were all seated on comfortable leather sofas surrounding a low coffee table in a private area of the Hotel Roanoke's lobby. Alice was positioned next to the couch arm closest to Jasper in her wheelchair, her broken leg straightened out and on a detachable strut. We had just completed the full story and both listeners appeared enraptured. Finally, Alice broke the silence.

"Edward, how did you end up in the well?" she asked. This was a question I had also wanted to ask, but there hadn't been enough time for us to discuss this once I'd realized that Edward could now change his clothing. Edward squirmed uncomfortably, not used to be addressed directly, but he met Alice's gaze as best he could.

"I'm not sure," he began thoughtfully. "I just knew that if I didn't do something that Bella would die. I couldn't think of anything except for her. I just focused and thought of the well. I knew that power was centered there, and I thought maybe I could harness it." He admitted truthfully. Then, he smiled sheepishly. "If I'd known I had it in me this whole time, then I could have ejected James from my body years ago. I feel quite responsible for this whole debacle." He hung his head. Alice huffed irritably.

"Are you such an idiot that you don't believe in fate even after all of this?" she questioned jokingly. Well, she was sort of joking. I could tell she was getting tired of Edward's self-esteem issues. His head shot up, and he smiled at her. I smiled too. She was breaking him in. Edward laughed and Jasper clapped him on the shoulder.

"Thanks for taking care of Bella," he told Edward. "I would never have heard the end of this, if something had happened to Alice's friend." He and Alice exchanged a loaded glance. Edward clasped my hand tightly and pressed his lips to the back of my wrist earnestly. He released me, and we sat in silence for awhile.

"What will you do now?" I asked Alice quietly. She smiled at me contentedly.

"Jasper's family owns some property in Texas. I think we can work something out. I've been putting a lot in savings. I had a feeling I would need that." she told me, winking.

I giggled and nodded, squeezing her hand. She squeezed back, looking deep into my eyes.

"What about you? What will you do now?" she asked intensely.

"I don't know," I told her honestly. "We both have a background in hospitality, and I think we have a great chance if we collaborate on a project," I began optimistically. She nodded.

"I predict great things for you, Chef Swan," she promised. I smiled across the circle at Edward and Jasper quietly chatting. He was really getting the hang of the 21st century. I couldn't wait for us to live it together. Especially the part where I was going to peel off the T-shirt and cargo shorts he was currently wearing.

He broke off from his conversation with a questioning look at me, no doubt sensing my thoughts. We were both mortal, but the supernatural was at our fingertips, and I planned to use it selfishly, at least a little bit…

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

A/N: Sigh. It's done. I hope you aren't too grossed out that Edward took Jacob's body. A few people mentioned that this ending would be upsetting for them out. But, I draw your attention to the fact that when a spirit such as James or Edward takes over a body, it's natural reaction is to project the usurper's image, not the ursurpee's. James spent a lot of time and energy trying to look like Edward. Edward is free to forgo this step, so he just looks like his young self. Convenient, right? Well, that's what I aimed for. I hope I convinced you.

I have another story rattling around in my brain, but I have the upcoming move, my husband coming home, and the oral portion of my board certification to think about. I probably should not write anything else multi-chaptered right now. I could do one-shots, I guess, if moved. I'm very pro-charity by political nature, so please let me know if I can help out with that at all, either by labor, money, or writing.

Hope you enjoyed this, Christine…

Thanks to all, EG


	18. Chapter 18

Review found in the NY Times:

**Charlie's**

By SAM SIFTON

Published: June 20, 2010

THE paparazzi has now abandoned the newest endeavor of America's Next Top Chef winner, Isabella Swan, and this writer is now ready to give it a fair review after six months of steady accolade. Ms. Swan gained notoriety as a feisty contestant on the Food Channel's reality TV show in 2008, and she brings her brand of sassiness to this outpost in Traverse City, Michigan. Traverse City has become a foodie destination in itself over the last few years, thanks, in part, to Swan's mentor, Mario Batali, of our city's beloved Babbo. Swan has branched out and gives us more than the rustic Italian of her training, relying on fresh local ingredients to weave her web. And this little spider has trapped a diner in me.

The pickled green bean salad was inspired, accented with a local goat feta cheese. My guest devoured her plating of heirloom tomatoes garnished with fleur de sel. I respected her enthusiasm despite my feeling that the heirloom tomato has been somewhat over served in recent years. All thoughts of lack of creativity by the chef departed, however, after one bite of my walleye with arugula and chorizo vinaigrette. This heavenly concoction was inhaled with little grace by the author, the simplicity and brilliance both astonishing.

The desert menu utilizes local products such as sweets from Patricia's Chocolates and Grocer's Daughter, but features a special desert each night prepared by Swan herself, despite the fact it is rumored that her desert special is designed by her former colleague, Rosalie McCarty of the celebrated Emmett's Bakery in Nashville, Tennessee.

Swan certainly lives up to her reality show hype, despite early disappointments. Her highly anticipated re-launch of the 1766 Grille at The Homestead Resort in Hot Springs, Virginia, lasted a single day, despite rave reviews. Swan has refused to comment in the media regarding this failure, but the accompanying intrigue from the resort has satisfied most curiosities. The General Manager of the hotel, Edward Cullen, Jr, was famously found murdered by his wife, Victoria, the morning after the re-opening just beside the eponymous springs. Mrs. Cullen is currently serving life in a prison mental facility.

Swan's sous chef, Ben Cheney, now heads the restaurant at the resort. He has had some local acclaim, and the resort seems to be slowly returning to its former glory after the tragedy.

The resort's PGA professional, Jacob Black, was also listed as a missing person a few days after the murder, despite no definitive link between him and the couple in question. His body has never been found. He left no family behind but was a member of the Cherokee Nation. The Principle Chief's office refused to comment other than to wish for the peace of Mr. Black's soul.

In addition, the resort Spa manager, Alice Brandon Whitlock, was significantly injured a few days before the re-launch in the same courtyard where Mr. Cullen met his end. She was let go by Mr. Cullen for allegations of irresponsible behavior after this incident, which she denied when questioned. She was hospitalized at the time of the murder and was not a suspect. She refused to comment for our report, and her husband was detained by police after threatening this reporter and his team. The couple currently operates a yoga retreat outside of Austin, Texas.

Despite the upheaval surrounding her departure from The Homestead, Swan seems to have a firm grasp on the locavore movement in Traverse City. Her restaurant is a destination and will be lauded as one of the most celebrated new restaurants of 2010, no matter how unlikely the location and genesis.

Her success is in no small part due to her front-of-the-house partner, Edward Masen, who also became her life partner when they married in a civil ceremony last year. Mr. Masen embodies the easy affability of your vacation home neighbor inviting you into his house to enjoy the bounty of his pantry. Mr. Masen puts his guests at ease, his ability to predict his guests' preferences almost supernatural. Swan and Masen are certainly a power couple and will undoubtedly guide the local restaurant scene for years to come. Maybe that power comes from a natural spring held sacred by the Ojibwe people of northern Michigan which feeds a well on the property. Swan has joked as much.

Although this author abhors gossip, it must be mentioned that Mr. Masen is a dead ringer for a photograph of the young Mr. Cullen, The Homestead murder victim. There is wild speculation that he is an unacknowledged heir to that bloodline, considering that Mr. Cullen and his wife were famously without children, despite their fifty year marriage. However, the couple in Traverse City has refused to comment on any of this gossip, preferring to keep focus on their culinary offerings. They seem to be succeeding in distracting the curious.

**Continue reading new restaurant reviews…**

A/N: Aww, shucks. You guys are so wonderful, you deserved another surprise! Wow, we're done. I can't believe I published a whole story. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. I hope you liked the format of the epilogue. I modeled it on a real NY Times food review. Sam Sifton is a real writer, but certainly didn't write this review.

Mario Batali is a true genius in rustic Italian cuisine and all of his restaurants are superb. I read an article about how Traverse City was his favorite vacation spot back in the August 2011 issue of Bon Appetite, which is where I got the idea for this conclusion. Please refer back to the first chapter where Bella references her sous chef prize at Babbo.

One more small thing about last chapter; The Finley Club is the golf club at the University of North Carolina. It is located just next to the top rated children's hospital in North Carolina, Children's Hospital of North Carolina in Chapel Hill. My Sarah is based on a canon character. She is only very briefly mentioned in the books and never actually present. Do you recognize her?

Sorry about the lack of lemons. I just really couldn't bring myself to write any. I mean, I read them enthusiastically in other stories, but I'm either Catholic or Southern Protestant (seriously, I don't know which, long story…). Enough said.

If you have a good enough cause, I might be able to overcome this writer's block. But that's the only way…

Thanks, EG


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